The Seven Stages Of Rodney's Coming Out Process
by Kitchyy
Summary: Sheppard/McKay - Rodney finds something out about his closest friend that changes him in ways he can't quantify.
1. Stage One: Shock

Title: The Seven Stages of Rodney's Coming Out Process  
Author: Kitchyy  
Rating: PG-NC-17. This Chapter: PG  
Pairings: Eventual Sheppard/McKay  
Warnings/Spoilers: Upto the End of Season 3, just to be safe

Summary: Rodney finds something out about his closest friend that changes him in ways he can't quantify.

Disclaimer: So not mine. Never will be.

This story honestly bit me in the ass out of nowhere. I never really planned on writing for SGA but Rodney had other plans. I had to drop all my other projects because Rodney was so insistent, and lets face it, when that man puts his mind to something nothing stands in his way for long. So, I bring you my first chapter story! Please, I'm looking for honest feedback, so if you like something, tell me, if you don't like something, tell me that too. If your concerned about posting it in the comments, then PM me. I don't mind.

Oh yeah, no beta, so all mistakes are mine, all mine.

* * *

**Stage One: Shock**

Rodney smiles as John opens the door to his quarters. "Hey, colonel, I know it's early- well, not early in the way you're used to, considering that you're usually up before it's even light out but..." He holds up the DVD he managed to get away from Radek. It's Run Lola Run, and yeah, it might have been filmed in German, dubbed in Czech and have English subtitles, but it's still the movie he and John have tried to get their hands on for months.

Rodney's eyes drop to look at the DVD and something catches his eye. He glances over at the mat near John's door, where not one, but two pair of military issued boots are lined up comfortably, side by side. Usually there would be nothing special about that, surely Sheppard has more than one pair? But it's the size of them, one size larger, and very, very male.

"That's great Rodney, do you have some time tonight to watch it?" John asks. He's smiling just like normal, but it's tight and doesn't sit on his face the way it's supposed to. John's also keeping the door closed as much as possible. He doesn't want to let Rodney in his quarters, and he's a little wierded out by this new and strange version of Sheppard.

"I think I might be able to... Get the time off." He starts to think about Sheppard, about him sleeping in late and the weird smile he hasn't relinquished yet. He thinks it has to do with the boots at the door and that he looks like he just crawled out of bed, and the fact that it's 7 am.

The thing that clenches it for him is along his collarbone, just under the line of his military issued tank, is the edge of a small love bite.

Rodney swallows loudly. He's a physicist, he's good at odds. There are very few reasons all these things can be lined up perfectly like this, and as the whole uncomfortable situation sinks in, Rodney loses all speech for a few seconds.

John has spent the night with another man.

Rodney honestly didn't mean to snoop. He didn't mean to invade John's privacy or anything like that. He was trying to be nice for once.

Damn, did that ever fall apart fast.

"I'll just, um- come back later. So we can, you know, watch that movie." The DVD in question dangles limply from his hand.

"Rodney, wait-"

Rodney doesn't wait. He practically runs from John's worried, guilty face. It's the face of a man who is busted and knows it.

And that just makes it that much worse.

* * *

John has spent the night with a man. It runs through Rodney's head like some kind of fucked up mantra, and it's always followed up by something different. It shifts between that's cool, I'm cool with that and how could I not have known?, and what about all the girls he was supposedly with?

Radek sighs really loudly and gives him a look, not for the first time that day.

"What?" Rodney snaps, because he really isn't in the mood.

"Will you be moping all day? I only wish to know because if yes, I will have to check over all the things you've been working on today. Which is frighteningly little."

It's true, he hasn't gotten that much done. He doesn't need anyone to rub that in. "I highly doubt my work needs checking over, thank you." He snips.

Radek huffs and points at the whiteboard he's been working on. "I highly doubt that. These co-coefficients need to be reversed, you used the wrong root number here and what else? Oh yes the-"

"It's a work in progress!" Rodney yells. Radek rolls his eyes and suddenly Rodney can't take his heaving sighs or his stupid face one more minute. "I'm going for a walk. Don't follow me." He stalks out of the lab. If it had a proper earth door he would have slammed it.

John has spent the night with a man. And Rodney doesn't know how to quantify that. Isn't sure how that fits in with the construct of who John is inside his head. He wonders momentarily who would interest him, if he is tall or short, blonde or dark. If he likes the top or-

Rodneys face gets uncomfortably hot and he decides to change the topic to something much, much safer. Like coffee or food or the power management system he's supposed to be working on instead of thinking about this.

It doesn't work. All he can do is think about Sheppard, his best (not-straight) friend. The friend he's supposed to be watching the movie with tonight. What if all these thoughts happen when he's watching the movie with John? What if - oh God - What if he starts talking and says something really stupid? He's done it before. He's never all that good with the things he should say versus the things he shouldn't. Now he's worried he'll say something that will wreck their friendship, and that's something he isn't willing to risk.

Rodney has a moment of utter panic. He needs to call the evening off. He can't do this. Not until he knows how to make this fit inside his head.

Numbers are always easier than people. Why can't John just be a number? It would be a hell of a lot easier than dealing with this mess.

His hand is half way to his headset and then thinks he might have been a bit hasty with his decision. If he cancels John might think Rodney doesn't approve, or doesn't want to be around his friend and that's just... Ridiculous. Rodney doesn't care who he's sleeping with. Well, he does, just for totally different reasons than John would think.

Ok, he's faced down air force general's, destroyed a solar system, gone through alien withdrawal and survived the wraith. If he can do all those things, then he can handle one night with Sheppard in a new light watching a movie.

* * *

"Hey," Rodney says as he slips through John's door. He doesn't mean to, but his eyes slide to the mat he accidentally looked at last time he was here. The boots are gone, the place is tidy and John is standing by the door. He looks tense, and Rodney feels that tension over his shoulders, in his legs and crawling around inside his chest.

"Hey," John replies, as laid back as always. "So, you brought the movie?"

Rodney snorts and holds it up like last time, as if nothing happened. Nothing really did happen, now that he thinks of it. So why the hell does everything feel so different? "Of course I did. It would be a little pointless if I didn't, considering we're supposed to be watching it."

John nods and takes a seat on his couch while Rodney fiddles with the computer. He remembers making this setup for John less than a month ago, because the one he used was horrible, and Rodney had told him so, loudly and at length the last time they had tried to watch a movie. For some reason that feels like a long time ago and he doesn't completely understand why.

He doesn't understand how this one thing can change so much.

John folds his arms against his chest. "Will you quit messing around with the system and just press play already?"

"Well excuse me for wanting to actually enjoy the movie!" Rodney snaps.

"The laptop screen hasn't changed since last time, Rodney."

Rodney stops fiddling and looks at him properly for the first time since he came in. "I had a crappy day, I want to be able to enjoy watching this instead of straining muscles that would be better utilized in accomplishing something that the city could find useful."

"Useful as in... sitting hunched over the laptop in your office for thirteen hours?" John teases.

Rodney smiles "Exactly. You know me so well."

Things are starting to feel like they never changed. He takes this feeling of normalcy, wraps it around that confused place inside his head, sits on the couch and presses play.

Five minutes into the movie and Rodney is thinking about what John sees, if he considers the main character beautiful or if he's even attracted to her in the least. Has he ever been attracted to women and if it really is a choice like all those anti-gay fanatics say, or if it's just something hard-wired into a persons' system.

At fifteen minutes he sneaks a look at John. He seems interested. Rodney can see why, the movie is good, and his brain starts to wind down a little.

John stretches and his foot comes into contact with Rodney's. He doesn't mean to, but he jumps. His face immediately heats up. "Sorry, um, sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"What is with you, McKay?" John asks, and it would sound completely normal except it sounds exactly like the voice he uses on a mission: alert, waiting for the big bad monster to rear its ugly head around the next corner.

Rodney's never been all that good at keeping things like this inside. "Ok, if I don't get this out then I'm going to explode."

"And exploding would be ... Bad?" John asks.

"What? Exploding is always bad." He counters. "Except for right now." he amends. He takes a deep breath. There's no time like the present. "I'm sorry. Not about the feet. About this morning."

And there it is, laid out so John can either take it or leave it.

John's face shutters closed. "I don't know what you're talking about." And he's smiling again, the one that sits on his face all wrong and Rodney has an urge to smack that smile right off his face.

"I'm not some military goon. So you spent the night with another guy. So what? I don't care." And God, does it ever feel good to get that out.

Rodney immediately knows it was the wrong thing to say. John gets up off the couch. Rodney scrambles to pause the movie. "Rodney, let me be very, very clear here, whatever you thought you saw, that wasn't it."

"Really." Rodney says drily.

John raises his eyebrows and tries to look sincere. "Yes, really."

"So... You were what, playing checkers all night?" Rodney asks with an arched brow. He holds up his hand to what would most assuredly be John's witty reply. "Look, I'm not your commanding officer. I'm your friend, which means I don't care who you sleep with."

Johns hands clench the back of the couch until his knuckles are white. "Can we just... I don't know, not talk about this?"

Rodney is honestly surprised at John's reaction. He thought he was doing right by his friend by doing that whole showing support thing. Isn't that what friends are supposed to do? Be supportive towards their friends and their lifestyles and their choices?

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Rodney asks uncertainly.

Relief and something Rodney can't quite read flashes over John's face. "Yes." he says with feeling.

"OK. I can do that."

John sits again and Rodney presses play. About thirty seconds pass. "I didn't think you'd be able to put it together. I mean, I thought I covered all the bases." John says quietly.

Rodney doesn't know if he should feel insulted or flattered that he was able to figure it out. He chooses the latter. "Smartest man alive, remember?"

John nods. His face is still shuttered. "Do me a favor and-"

"Don't tell?" Rodney asks. "Don't worry, I know your rules. Even if I don't agree with them." He's very glad he's Canadian. His country is one of the few that has legalized gay marriage, and it's never been a punishable offence in the military, or at least not since '92. The worst thing that could happen before that was dismissal from military service. If John is found out it could be much worse. Rodney's heard of Leavenworth, and he has a feeling a good chunk of those men and women might be like John is, only not so lucky, not so careful.

"Yeah. I thought you'd say something like that." He says, quietly, with the look of a man who has accepted his lot in life.

That just pisses Rodney off. "Ridiculous rules, if you ask me."

"No one's asking you!"

There's a crashing noise on the computer screen. It's a little distracting and Rodney hits the pause button again and gets up. "I need a beer for this. Where's your stash?"

John points to the beer fridge hidden behind a bookshelf. Ah, the good stuff. He hauls out two of the good ones and hands one to John, pops the cap on his bottle and drinks more than he should in one gulp. It makes him cough.

He has no idea where to take this conversation now. He sits back on the couch and fiddles with the label on his beer. "So... Have you always been...?"

John rolls his eyes. "I had a wife, remember?"

Rodney stops picking at his beer bottle and gives him a look. "And I clearly remember you telling me you're divorced. So, that statement of yours? Yeah, it doesn't exactly answer my question."

The silence feels pregnant, and after a few pointed seconds John says, "we were highschool sweethearts. We were supposed to get married. I loved flying. Liking... guys... wasn't part of the equation." He says the word guys like it's a dirty word, like moist. Rodney always hated the word moist. It reminds him of mold and dirty sponges teeming with bacteria and poisonous mushrooms growing under wet, dark things.

"So... What happened?" Rodney asks.

John shrugs, looking at his beer bottle like it might hold the answer to the universe. At least he isn't giving Rodney that stupid fake smile any more. "I realized that some things you can fake, and some things you can't. You can't fake being happy, Rodney. No matter how hard you try. Someone's always gonna find out. For me, that someone was Nancy."

"She found out?" Rodney asks. He tries to imagine how it would feel to be married, and then have that person find out he's not attracted to them. He concludes that it can't end well.

"No, but it just never worked. Eventually I had to break it off. She knew there was something off about me, I think. Although I don't think she knows about this." John takes a long pull from his beer.

"This meaning... You and guys."

"Me and guys." John confirms.

The only sound in the room is the crashing of distant waves through the open window. Rodney feels like he's stuck in an ocean right now, tossed and turned and unable to figure out which way is up. He has no idea what to say to make John feel better.

"Well... At least you figured out what makes you happy now, right?"

He thinks this time he's said the right thing. John nods, and although he isn't smiling, somehow he seems happier. "Maybe. I'm still figuring that part out. But... Maybe, yeah." John is silent for a few more seconds, and then,"military goon?" John asks with a sideways look.

Rodney smirks. "Show me a military man who isn't. Present company excluded, of course."

John chuckles, and something tight and worried un-coils inside Rodney. "I'll take that as a compliment. I think."

They change the subject after that, and conversation flows just like it always has. They forget to watch the rest of the movie, but that's ok, because when Rodney heads back to his quarters, he feels like he and John are friends again, and maybe even closer than where they were twenty-nine hours ago.

~TBC~


	2. Stage two: Confusion

Just a quick aside here, this story happens about mid-way through Season 3.

* * *

**Stage Two: Confusion **

Rodney hates the rain. He hates it even more when he doesn't know if it will ever end.

"It's just rain, McKay." Ronon mutters. It may just be rain, but it's cold and miserable and a lot of the stuff in his pack is electronic devices they need. If he hadn't put all of them in ziplock bags he'd be screwed right about now. Rodney wants to punch him for being so clueless sometimes. He doesn't though, if he were honest with himself, he never would either. Firstly, because he's a good friend that's saved his life time and time again. Secondly, he knows it will end up with him face down in the mud, too many bruises to count, his dignity in shreds and Ronon standing over him smiling like a maniac and he will not give that man the pleasure.

John and Teyla are talking with the top-planet-important-person of the hour, and for M93-7T8 it's a woman who looks a lot like Teyla. Rodney has a sudden urge to do a gender study on all the planets in the milky way with patriarchal heads versus the Pegasus with all the very many matriarchal heads. Maybe there's some correlation between star count and gravity and other randomized yet extremely important anomalies that defines this galaxy leaders as different from the one he grew up in.

Their conversation finally ends. The woman looks less than impressed, and Rodney can't tell if it's the rain or the conversation that's made her so annoyed.

"Ok, we can stay the night in the tavern. Or whatever they call it here." John's hair has flattened to his scalp and water drips from the point of his nose. "Ronon, Radio Atlantis, tell them we're gonna be a little late."

Ronon nods and walks off, his hand to his ear. "How long is a little late?" Rodney asks.

Teyla looks as miserable as he feels. "The rain can last for many days on this planet." She replies wearily.

His adrenaline spikes. "How long is many?" Rodney demands. He doesn't want to stay on a sodden rainy planet for more than is absolutely necessary.

"Many." John replies. He looks grim and Rodney sighs heavily. They really need to start checking long-term planetary weather forecasts before gating through. It would save a plethora of problems exactly like this one. He squelches miserably behind Sheppard and in front of Teyla into the local tavern. They broker two rooms, Teyla and Ronon claim one, which leaves him and John in the other.

"Remind me again why we came to this God forsaken rock?" Rodney asks as he strips out of his soaking wet clothes and pulls something not completely soaked through from his pack.

"Food, Rodney. Atlantis needs food." John is wearing his only spare clothing, an old pair of BDU's and a loose-fitting olive-green button down military shirt that's seen better days. The rest is placed strategically on random pieces of furniture near the fireplace to allow to dry. Even the fire looks miserable. it's tiny and hissing as rain comes in through the chimney.

Ah, yes. The crutch of the issue. "I don't see the problem with MRE's." He sniffs. He honestly doesn't understand why so many people have a problem with them. It reminds him of Campbell's soup and cafeteria food in first year university.

John tidies up his pack and leans it against the foot of the only bed. "Well, call me silly, but I don't feel like living on MRE's for the rest of my life."

"You're missing out." Rodney replies from the other side of the bed and his smile fades. One bed. One double sized bed to fit him and John, and after all the things he knows about him, he isn't sure if John wants to share the bed with him.

John stands on the other side looking just as lost. At least now that they're inside he doesn't look so much like the drowned rat he did half an hour ago. "So... Head to foot?" John asks. There's that unreadable look again. He has no idea what John is trying to say with his face and it's starting to annoy him almost as much as the rain.

He reminds himself of what people are supposed to do in times like this and nods his head. "Yeah, head to foot." Then he climbs into bed with only marginally damp clothing, grabs the pillow from the head of the bed, plops it at the foot and does his best to get comfortable. He wonders why all these planets need to stuff their mattresses with hey. Isn't there some type of alien cotton plant somewhere they can use to make sleeping slightly more comfortable? "Just... do me a favor and don't stick your feet in my face while I'm sleeping."

John smirks as he climbs into bed, his head resting comfortably at the proper end. "That, I think, I can handle." There's a pause as John climbs into bed. "At least I think so." John wiggles the nearest socked foot towards Rodney and he smacks it like some maiden aunt protecting her virtue.

"Just go to sleep." Rodney snaps and closes his eyes. All he can think about is the proximity of people, the heat of John's body and that their groins are perfectly aligned. Oh, he knows he shouldn't think these weird things. He still does though. It's not the kind of thing that turns him on, it really isn't, but he's aware of it, all the same. Painfully aware, and as John's breathing slowly change from controlled to even as he falls asleep, Rodney is still awake, counting breaths, counting seconds, minutes, hours, and another persons heartbeat and prays for sleep to come to him at least once to get these weird thoughts out of his head.

* * *

SGA-1 (that's what he calls his team in his head) is sitting in the tavern with the three heads of the community the next morning. Two of them are women and Rodney recognizes one of them from the conversation last night, looking much more put together than when he had first met her.

Actually, now that she's dry and her hair isn't matted together in wet pathetic, dripping clumps, she looks quite pretty. Attractive, even. Rodney tries to smile at her, but she completely ignores him, focusing instead on Lieutenant Colonel John Shepard and even gives him a sweet little smile.

Rodney's annoyed. And still wet in places he wouldn't like to share. He worries how fast it takes to develop Trenchfoot. John is smiling back at her, using that old Sheppard charm and it just... Grates on his nerves. If it wasn't for Atlantis going into full ration mode he would have said something by now.

"So, fourteen bushels of this... Kurah wheat in exchange for medical supplies and inoculations." Sheppard surmises. "I think we can do that."

"Our people will be grateful." The woman - Kina, Shina? - Rodney's never been good with names, says.

"Thank you Meenah, this will not go unforgotten." Teyla says, and they clasp hands like warriors. Rodney runs her name over and over in his head trying to remember it. He has a feeling he won't.

John smiles kindly at the three of them. "So, when do you think the harvest will be ready?" John asks.

Meenah blushes prettily but it's the old guy that replies with a voice that sounds like rusty pipes. "Give us two full changes of the large moon, and we will have your bushels."

Rodney does some quick math. This world has 3 moons. One tiny and two decent. One is slightly larger, a centimeter larger than earth's moon. he extrapolates what information he can from homing in on this planet when they came in on the Jumper. It will be another two and a half months. The rations by that time will be tight. Their food will not come amiss.

John looks at him and Rodney gets a small thrill that he trusts him so implicitly. He nods once and John smiles at the three leaders, particularly at Meenah again. "I think that works quite nicely."

Meenah dips her head in acknowledgement. "I am glad to hear of it, and to make good friends with people who would help us so freely." She places a hand on John's hand and something inside Rodney tightens up, like an elastic band pulled to taut.

John clears his throat and pulls his hand back. Teyla looks amused. Rodney just feels confused and annoyed. "Well, we appreciate everything you've done for us already." John says kindly. He pulls his hand from under hers, pats it and then stands up. "We have to tell our leader about this friendship we've found."

As they leave, Meenah steps closer to John, rests a hand lightly on his shoulder and turns him enough to look at her. "You do not wish to stay?" She asks, and her face is open and so very sweet. "The rain will last some time and in a few days the rain festivals will start. They are a great enjoyment among my people."

Teyla and John smile. Rodney glowers and for once, he thinks Ronon is on his side.

"We are appreciative," Teyla says, "but the news you bring is of great importance to these people. We must tell them of the good news. Once we are done, only then can we partake of your rain celebration." This is why Rodney isn't allowed to speak on diplomatic missions. Nothing he says could ever be as slick and sweet as Teyla.

With only a few more pleasantries they're finally able to slip from the town, and ok, it might be raining the whole way, but Rodney doesn't mind it so much this time. This walk means they can get the hell off this miserable wet rock and back to Atlantis where all the wet stays in one place.

They're in the Jumper and half way to the gate when John turns to Rodney sitting co-pilot but not allowed to do anything. "You did good." He says softly.

"I did?" Rodney asks blankly.

John smirks at him with bright dancing eyes. "You didn't talk during negotiations. I'd call that a win."

"Why thank you." Rodney says sarcastically. "Honestly I don't even know why you have that ridiculous rule. I mean, I probably could have gotten the wheat deal and only had to give them half of what you offered."

"We're giving them medical supplies." John reminds him. "And besides, if we're going to be friends then sharing is what we want to do, remember?"

"I sill could have brokered a better deal." Rodney sing songs. John and Teyla roll their eyes. "What? I could have!"

John shakes his head with a little half-smile and that weird fluttery-panic-deep-in-the-belly feeling he had all night visits him again. "Dialing in." John clears his throat and presses a button on the main console. "Atlantis, this is Puddle Jumper One. We've got all members of our team accounted for, a trade agreement, and a bunch of food come summertime. Permission to come through?"

"Puddle Jumper One, This is Atlantis," Chuck says through the usual static. "Good to hear from you. The gate is open, come on home."

And as they slide through the event horizon, Rodney looks at Sheppard. He seems so calm, so collected, so fucking pristine and perfect it's a little irritating. Rodney doesn't know what this feeling is, or why he even has it. He chalks it up to hunger, sleepiness and still being damp. His brain isn't functioning at full capacity now, that's all.

He also knows that he's spent the night with a (gay or at least partly gay) military friend and couldn't sleep the entire night.

He really wishes he knew what _that_ meant too.

Weir, of course, is delighted with the news, and if Rodney was less tired, wet and hungry he would be able to enjoy the feeling of a job well done a bit more. All he wants to do is go back to his quarters, have a hot shower and sleep for a good thirteen hours.

That's also hours away. First it's down to the medical bay to get themselves checked over, and he even tells Beckett he feels fine. It still doesn't stop him from jabbing Rodney with needles and running him under scanner after scanner. Then it's off to debrief the rest of the senior staff, which takes another few hours, and then - oh yes, then - he's finally given leave to stumble off to his quarters.

John, however, catches up with him in the halls near his quarters. "Hey, wanna finish that movie later?"

Rodney had almost forgotten about the movie. They were supposed to finish it days ago but work keeps getting in the way. "Personally, all I want to do is sleep."

John frowns. "Didn't sleep well or something?"

"Exactly. Why do alien beds have to be so uncomfortable?"

John shrugs. "It was pretty comfortable for me."

"Yes, because you were sleeping in it properly. I, on the other hand, wasn't. I should also tell you that dodging your huge canoe like feet all night should rank somewhere in the Olympic games."

John looks at his feet. "They aren't like canoes. In fact, they're perfectly normal for my height."

"Yes, if you were eight feet tall." Rodney chuckles. They're at his quarters. "Once I'm up I'll radio you. See if you want to watch the movie still."

John nods and claps a hand on his shoulder. "Sounds good. Sleep well, Rodney."

Despite the exhaustion seeping into his bones, Rodney is smiling when he steps into his room.

~TBC~


	3. Stage Three: Attraction

Here I bring you chapter three. This one is... aherm, one of the reasons this is under M.

This chapter's rating: NC-17. Don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

**Stage Three: Attraction**

Rodney's in his blissfully hot shower when it occurs to him that John's smile is nice, and sometimes he likes seeing it.

He freezes and blinks water out of his eyes, then stares at the fancy ancient bathroom tile for a few seconds. The thought bothers him. Enough that it takes him a long time to get to sleep and once there its fitful and restless. It leaves Rodney feeling grouchy, whiney and still confused.

He's most likely just been spending an egregious amount of time with John, he decides. What with being on his gate team, all the senior staff meetings, movie nights and any other activities they do after hours, and Rodney surmises they spend more time with each other than Rodney has with anyone else in a long time.

He doesn't radio John. Instead, Rodney shaves, puts on a drop or two of cologne he brought with him and rationed like crazy, then heads down to the anthropology department where one Dr. Inga Vandergucht works, the pretty redhead that smiles at him over lunch in the mess hall.

* * *

The next day after the staff meeting John grabs his arm and waits until the rest of the staff leave the confrence room. "Hey, I thought you were gonna radio me last night?"

Rodney had a feeling this would happen. He swallows down an upswelling of guilt and shrugs. "I forgot I had a date." Which is kind of true. He kept reminding himself to go talk to her, it's just that it's so busy here Rodney finds it near impossible at times to get a minute to ask.

Their date was nice, too, if a little boring. They spent the evening eating MRE's on one of the south balconies and talking almost all night.

John's brows shoot upwards. "With a girl?"

Rodney scoffs. "Yes, with a girl. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Uh, no reason. I Just didn't realize you were interested in... you know ... people." John's smiling at him, but there's a line between his brows. Rodney knows it means something. He wishes he knew what.

"It may surprise that sadly average brain of yours but yes, sometimes I go on dates, and sometimes I even enjoy myself. I'm pretty sure she enjoyed it too. The corresponding times she was smiling versus not smiling was about half, remove a good chunk of that time due to eating and drinking and the numbers drastically increase for smiling."

"You figure out they have a good time by doing math?" John looks somewhere between amused and disturbed.

"And how, pre tell, do you?"

John tips his head to the side. "Well, I consider a date a success when the kissing happens." He coughs indelicately. "Or more."

Rodney is quiet for a beat. "Oh ha-ha, very funny. You're a real Cassanova." He retorts sarcastically and pushes past John who's trying not to laugh and failing. "I'll come over and watch the rest of the movie tonight."

John nods and looks at his watch. "That works, I gotta go now anyways, I have a sparring session with Teyla and if I'm late she kicks my ass even harder than usual."

"You kids have fun!" Rodney says and smiles as John trots off.

The rest of the movie is actually pretty good. Rodney and John heckle it the whole way through, mostly about the Czech voices they used.

After, they have a few beers and talk about home. Rodney talks about his sister, how glad he is not to be in Siberia and his cat. Mostly about his cat. John laughs, talks about the sports games he could watch, the new cars he hasn't seen, different types of jets and choppers and the thrill he gets when he's pulling g's in a vertical climb.

Rodney notices he doesn't talk about his family. In fact, every time Rodney asks him a question about it he changes the subject so subtly Rodney doesn't notice for a good couple of minutes.

He wonders about that, and all the other things John doesn't tell him. Questions keep rolling around the back of Rodney's head about the guy and the boots, if John is serious about him or if it was simply a one night thing. If he has an entire committed relationship and separate life Rodney doesn't know about.

It bugs him to think that Rodney's best friend has kept so much from him.

Eventually John sighs. "I know you want to ask."

Rodney's eyes widen. "How did you- I didn't even say anything."

John's legs are crossed at the ankle, resting on the coffee table. His left foot bounces twice. "I know you, Rodney, you're always thinking about something."

"I could have been thinking about something different." He argues. "Why are you suddenly ok with talking about it now?" Last time was a catastrophe and he's pretty sure neither of them want to go through that again.

"Last time you caught me out of the blue." He says it like that should make perfect sense.

Rodney frowns. "We're caught in all kinds of situations on missions. How does this particular one differ in any way?"

John raises a single eyebrow. "McKay, when we're caught out on a mission it's usually by people who want to turn us into their food or trying to kill us. They're not usually confronting me about my sexuality or asking about who I'm spending my night's with."

"Huh. Good point." Rodney concedes. It makes a strange kind of sense. It's not often John uses his last name outside of missions these days. For some reason it feels stiff and aloof, and now that John seems like talking, Rodney doesn't know how to ask all the questions that keep cropping up. It's like someone pointing at him and asking him to rattle off his three favorite foods. He blanks out every single time. "Well, um ..." Rodney clears his throat. "Are things going well between you two?"

"Yeah, but you should know it doesn't happen often."

"So, it's casual, then?"

John nods. "It's safer that way. Getting involved can get a little dangerous. I like to keep things easy, you know? Quiet."

"So quiet even I don't know?" Rodney asks then puts a hand up, "Sorry, I shouldn't have- sorry." John's quickly darkening expression eases and Rodney sighs. Why does this have to be so complicated? "What if you didn't have to hide your relationship, how would you two be then?"

John looks out the window at the cloudy night. "Maybe things would be different. I can't say for sure. I mean, it's hard to look at it that way." Rodney suspects it's because John's been hiding an integral chunk of his life for a long time under very imposing rules. It would be hard to have a real, lasting relationship under those conditions.

John's attention shifts back to Rodney and looks him over. He looks like he's weighing his thoughts, choosing his words. "Ok, think of it like this: You have a secret that's great, kinda... special to you. And you like someone enough to share that secret with 'em, let them become part of it. Suddenly they get a lot more special because of it." John's eyes shift to the window again and become distant. "Sometimes It can blur the senses. It takes time to figure out if they feel more important because they're part of this thing you've created or if its them that makes you feel that way."

"Sounds inherently complicated." Rodney mutters.

"A lot of things are complicated out there. And yeah, this might be one of them, but it's better than the alternative."

"That being?"

John focuses on him again, solemn and serious. "Pretending again. I don't want to do that anymore." His smile grows and the sadness hiding in the corners of his eyes is almost gone. Almost, but not quite. "If that means being alone sometimes or dodging the regs, I'm ok with that."

Rodney wonders if he's getting the whole truth.

* * *

When Rodney gets home he feels wound up, restless. With everything he and John talked about, Rodney starts to think about the last time he was able to... Enjoy the company of another person, so to speak, which has been a while. In fact, it's been a long time since he's had a good release at all. His dick twitches in interest at his realization.

So, after his evening ablutions and Rodney's settled in for the night, the windows are closed and the door is locked, he closes his eyes and touches on a few fantasies that usually brings him off.

He tries the one with the hot blonde covered in grease that bends over his car and tells him all the little ways he could improve engine efficiency that he missed, and the sexy brunette librarian that pushes him into a supply closet to have her wicked way with him. Then, later as he starts to get annoyed and not keyed up like he was hoping, he tries the one with Sam, soaking wet, clothing sticking to her incredibly beautiful body and all she wants to do is devour him.

And damn it, that's not working the way it usually does either. Rodney stops stroking himself and sighs heavily. There has to be something that will help with this tension.

Rodney bites his lip and tries to think of something that will work. He's always liked hands. They're strong and agile and so very, very clever. They feel good on his skin. They feel good even when he isn't looking for release. Just the idea of someone desiring him enough to touch him, feel him, God, _linger_ over his body...

He closes his eyes, slides a hand down his chest, scratches his belly with fingernails, just enough to feel the scrape, hear the grate of nails on skin, then teases along the line of hair trailing down from his bellybutton and grips his cock. He gives it a long, slow pull. He imagines a set of hands gliding over his skin, warm and strong. They want him, they tell him so with every touch. They trace nonsensical patterns into the back of his neck, then around to his chest to fondle his nipples.

He strokes himself a little faster. Rodney could drown in the feeling of being wanted like this. His other hand tweaks a nipple. His dick hardens a little more. Oh, yeah, this will definitely work.

Those imaginary hands are gliding over his thighs with light, tentative fingers, almost tickling but not quite. His mind flashes to John in the jumper, flicking switches and pressing buttons to call up Atlantis. John clapping Rodney on the back, the pressure bringing comfort, the confidence in the simple touch is so _John_. The raindrops still beading on the back of his hands on that planet, pasting all the fine hairs flat to his skin. He has long fingers, wide palms, the pads of his fingertips are calloused with work, the nails bitten down but not too far.

Suddenly those floating, disconnected, and genderless hands Rodney imagines become large and wide and warm. Working hands - a man's hands. They grip and slide over his skin possessively, like they want to own him, like they never want to stop. Rodney's hand on his cock speeds up and his hips begin to match pace with shallow thrusts.

Then he imagines one of those hands sliding down his belly, along the sensitive crease between pelvis and leg, and to the crack of his ass. Rodney gasps as he imagines how it would be if those thick, clever fingers slid over that sensitive skin, pressed against him, then _into_ him. And he has to know, has to understand- his free hand slides over the same territory and with a low groan he slides his index finger just- just _there_.

He doesn't slide his fingers inside, he doesn't have lube to try with anyways. He just traces around and over the thin, wrinkled skin, gets to know the texture, the sensitive places, and every time his fingers slide fully over his hole a tingle shoots through him, making him shudder, making him moan, and now he really does want to feel those hands over him and inside him, not just some cooked up fantasy. God, he wants it so damn much. His fingers trace over a certain spot, his hips jerk up, his head tips back and he's there, shuddering and coming and groaning and _oh god, yesssss_.

It's been a while since he's come this hard. His hands are shaking for long minutes after, and he's breathing like he had to sprint for the gate. His body is so, so sensitive in the aftermath. Just doing clean up makes him break out in goosebumps.

He's surprised at himself, too. He's never had a fantasy that has hit him quite this hard, or so deeply. He can feel the aftershocks still zinging under his skin. He wants to imagine that again, feel it for real. He knows deep down it's something he wants.

But- but Rodney is straight. He likes feminine hands. He likes how girls are soft and small, how they smell so nice. He likes it when they take charge, and smile and giggle. Well... mostly. Sometimes their laughter grates on his nerves. Some girls sound like a gerbil caught in a hamster wheel, or a small kid and that's a little too much for him.

But he really just _wants_ to like girls too. He wants to be accepted, he already knows he isn't very personable; he feels like sleeping with a guy would be putting another nail in Rodney's 'no people allowed' coffin. He also wants to pass on his genes and he can only do that with a woman, so he likes them and wants them, and- well, that's that.

It doesn't happen very often, but every once in a while a man comes along and throws Rodney for a loop. This time, it's John, and although Rodney's a little surprised at the person his libido has chosen to swoon over, he feels confident he can kick this.

He's been able to overcome this little problem of his in the past, he can do it again. He needs to find someone else to focus on, thats all. Preferably a girl someone, and eventually John will lose that magical something and go back to the friend he's supposed to be and everything can go back to normal.

Rodney takes those ideas and holds them in his mind as sleep finally takes him.

* * *

He tries to flirt with the nurses the next time he ends up in the infirmary, which is two days later since Miller thought she was a brilliant engineer, wired something wrong and didn't bother telling anyone. The burns aren't too bad, all considered. The problem is the nurses are the same, not too bad, but not too great either.

Rodney was hoping he would find someone in here, since he's hanging around the infirmary a lot, and on a double plus, hey, naughty nurse fantasy come true! But that's ok, Rodney reminds himself, there are beautiful women everywhere, he just needs to keep his eye out for the right one.

With all his thoughts centered on starting a new relationship, he begins to calculate how long it's been since he's had one. He figures it out the day after he gets back from the infirmary. He's doing the hunt and peck thing on his laptop since he can't type like a normal person for another few days. The answer is longer than he would like to admit out loud. Then he tries to think of the longest relationship he's had and that's a much smaller number than he would prefer.

People his age are supposed to handle mature, lasting relationships, marriage and kids and that white picket fence people are always striving towards. From what Rodney can remember, the majority of his don't last much past the honeymoon phase, and when they do, that version of life has never proposed itself as a possibility. He doesn't want a white picket fence. He wants climbing spires, a mote an ocean wide and enough discovery and cerebral challenge to last a lifetime.

At least he has one part of his dream future figured out. All he needs is the rest and he'll be set. Rodney's loathe to admit it, but it's possible he isn't the marrying type. He's known people who have lived on their own for so long it becomes part of who they are, happy to be alone. Rodney feels sad thinking about his life like that, but it is possible that maybe that's what's in store for him.

He wonders suddenly that if DADT was revoked, would John be the marrying type.

Rodney realizes two things: first, he shouldn't think about John in any kind of relationship terms, because he's Rodney's friend and that's just... no. Second, if he's going to think about all of his long past and frightfully short relationship's then he should at least help himself by getting a real plan to make sure his next one lasts longer than six months.

He opens a new file on his laptop screen. He's going to make a plan for that if it kills him.


	4. Stage Four: Fix it With Math

Here lies Chapter four, and yes, as per my usual antics, there will be smut. Consider yourself warned.

Remember, not mine, and un beta'd.

* * *

**Stage Four: Fix it With Math**

"You know, it's really good to see you." Rodney says with a wistful smile as he takes a seat across from her. "I know it's been a while since we've made the time like this. Things are just so busy around here, you know?"

She tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear as her lips curve in a warm smile. Rodney likes it when she smiles like that. "I know. It's a busy place, especially for someone like you. It's been, what, a month?"

"Closer to two, I think." He replies thoughtfully.

"So, how have you been?" Heightmeyer asks. Down to business, then. Rodney's always liked that about her. "How have you been sleeping?"

Rodney shrugs and breaks eye contact. "Things are well enough, not so great with the sleeping though, now that you mention it."

"Nightmares?" She asks with sympathy. A lot of people here have them. With all the things everyone on this expedition has experienced in the last three years, Rodney wouldn't be surprised if a large percentage of her docket is filled with people who simply can't sleep.

"No, just... doing a lot of thinking." He admits.

"What kinds of things have you been thinking about that won't let you sleep?" She asks curiously.

Rodney shrugs. "Relationships, mostly."

Heightmeyer writes something down and Rodney shifts in his seat. "Are you thinking about the generic or the romantic?"

"Well, romantic," Rodney breathes in, holds it in his chest for a moment and then speaks very quickly. He needs to get it all out. "I've been thinking about the romantic relationships I've had in the past, and what could be in store for me in the future, which isn't looking as hopeful as I once thought."

Heightmeyer raises a single golden brow. "How so?"

It seems like such an innocent question. Rodney taps the armrest of his chair with anxious fingers. "Well, here's how I'm looking at it: if I take all the girls I've dated and use that as a projection for the future, and I'm what, 34 now? That means by the time I'm dead I will have a crushingly large number of angry ex girlfriends hoping for my demise."

There's a small dent between her brows as she looks him over. "Is it the number of exes that keeps you up or the fact that the relationships failed?" She asks.

"What? Both!" Rodney snorts. "Didn't I say it was a crushingly large number? I mean, if we're talking atmosphere's of pressure, I'd be the size of a coffee cup by now."

"Was it anything in specific that brought all this on?"

Rodney folds his arms against his chest and takes in the view of Atlantis through her office window. His right foot bounces. He always feels intensely vulnerable when he talks about these things. "I tried going on a date."

Heightmeyer smiles encouragingly. Rodney feels like he's being pat on the head for drawing a picture that vaguely resembles a dog. "That's good, Rodney. It means you're finally getting comfortable enough to reach out and start forming healthy, lasting relationships. How did it go?"

Rodney's eyes slide away from hers again. "It was... good. I guess."

He can hear her writing something else down. He hates it when she writes things down. "In what way?"

"Everything was fine. She was nice, the view over the south balcony was nice, the conversation was good, too, even if we did talk mostly about hippy science. It just wasn't... Memorable."

"Well, it's possible you and her simply didn't have the right chemistry." Heightmeyer puts her pen down then looks at him for a moment. She's beautiful. Rodney suspects that's one of the many reasons he sees her. It's hard enough getting these thoughts out of his brain. If he's getting help from a beautiful, confident, intelligent woman, it tends to make things marginally less painful.

"A lot of people in your age group start to think about their futures outside of their careers, especially if they're single, like you are now. Settling down is something people want to do; make family groups, find someone to share their lives with. You're expanding on your personal life, and that's a good thing. You're allowed to feel good about that."

Rodney's mouth tightens. "But the same problems keep surfacing no matter the person. That's what I'm struggling with here." He tries very hard to make it not sound whiny and he's not sure if he succeeds.

Heightmeyer shrugs. "Maybe you're looking for a lasting relationship with the wrong types of people. Can you think of any traits or similarities these people you've dated have in common?"

"Perhaps that they're all female?" It's out before he has the time to filter it. His mouth snaps shut with an audible click and Heightmeyer is sitting there, eyes wide and pen frozen a few inches above her tablet.

Rodney's starting to panic. He knows she's going to take this and run with it and he really doesn't want to hear the conversation he knows she's going to push for. "Rodney-"

"I'm not gay!" He snaps. Because he isn't.

"Rodney, listen to-"

"I've never even kissed a guy before!" He can feel the need to nervously babble rising up and he has to get it under control. He can't do that when he isn't sure what's going to come out next.

"Rodney?" She asks patiently.

"What?"

She reaches out to squeeze his hand, and it helps calm him down minutely. "I wasn't going to imply that you were. I was simply going to ask what made you think of that trait in particular?" She says it so rationally, so calmly that Rodney relaxes a little more.

This isn't how he saw this meeting going in his head. Rodney gets up from the chair and starts to pace. "This is confidential right? Of course it is, or else I wouldn't be here in the first place. Although taking notes on this probably wouldn't be a good idea since any average Atlantis laptop is only double encrypted and if the right person got a hold of it, which is over half the expedition, it would only take half an hour to break the code. Maybe I can beef up the encryption for you. It would only take a day - well, two, tops-"

"Rodney?" Heightmeyer asks. He knows that tone of voice, she's trying to get him to focus.

Rodney stops pacing, closes his eyes and chooses his words very carefully. He doesn't want to out John, even to Heightmeyer. _Especially_ not Heightmeyer. "Look, about a month ago, a friend of mine, a North American military friend, the faction with all the Don't Ask Don't Tell rules - which I would just like to add, is an asinine rule to live by, told me about their... sexual preferences." Rodney stops and breathes for a moment, then tries to gather his thoughts. "I've never actually had a gay friend before." He admits, and damn, that shouldn't sound as sad as it does, but there it is. "I don't know how to act and things keep popping up inside my head when I'm around this person."

Heightmeyer looks concerned and watches his face intently. If she wasn't his therapist he'd be flattered with all that attention. Here, it makes him feel as if he's being dissected. "Are you bothered by what they've told you?"

"What? Of course not! Just surprised. And a little hurt they felt they couldn't trust me with this. I mean, we've known each other since before we left for Atlantis." Which is true for over half of the expedition.

Has he said too much? He runs his commentary over in his head, analyzing statements, seeing if she could figure out who it could be. He's sure there's nothing she can use to figure out that it's John. Still, talking about this makes him scared, well, not scared so much as... concerned. He doesn't know how to articulate that without sounding like some backwater ignorant.

Heightmeyer looks thoughtfully at him for a long time. "It's possible one of the reasons you're thinking about your past girlfriends is because you're trying to figure out how their relationships might work and have worked in the past. If this person is, as you say, one of the North American soldiers, that means they need to keep very quiet about who they find an interest in, whereas yours can be public."

"Oh please, that's... actually... quite ingenious." He says with a thoughtful frown. So he might feel like this because he's trying to understand John more, and instead of observing like a proper scientist, he's going through files of information that's only relevant to him and coming up short. It's definitely a possibility.

Or at least part of one.

"So why then, if mine are always out in the open and I'm able to love whomever I choose, it still doesn't work?" Rodney asks. There's an ache in his chest he refuses to put an emotion to.

Heightmeyer puts the pen down again and steeples her fingers. "I think what you need to do is start looking at the people you've dated and the reasons why the relationships ended. Think of it like a math problem, if that helps." She says with a smile. Rodney rolls his eyes. "You might be surprised at what you find."

Rodney holds back a sigh. He was worried she would say something like that.

* * *

He tries to take Heightmeyer's advice about a few things. First, try to go on a date with someone he usually wouldn't. It isn't exactly what she said, but he's using it as a blueprint. The girls he dated before don't work for him, ergo, he needs to find a different kind of girl to date.

So, here Rodney is with one of the marines. Her name is Alice Santos, she was born in New Mexico, her dad runs a garage in Arizona, she loves cats, which is a plus, and she's pretty funny, too. She was at the table when Cadman waved him over the other day at lunch and refused to take no for an answer when Rodney tried to slink away. They had a not completely ridiculous conversation, so Rodney put his second thoughts aside and asked her to spend the afternoon with him on next rest day.

They leave the mess after a light lunch. Alice pulls him aside and into one of the many random alcoves the Ancients loved so much. "How about we make these coffees a little more Irish?" She says with a gleam in her brown eyes and pulls a flask from God only knows where.

Well, she was funny until now. She looks like she means business and wags the flask between her fingers. "It's two in the afternoon!" Rodney covers the mouth of his coffee cup with his hand. If there's an emergency he refuses to explain to Weir that he can't help because he got drunk with a marine.

"Spoilsport." She puts a dollop of strong smelling Irish whiskey in her coffee and takes a sip. "Ah, much better." She sighs in bliss, then smiles at him. "So, where are you taking me? Somewhere mysterious?" She waggles her eyebrows.

He had found an observatory at the bottom floor of the east pier a few weeks ago. The walls are completely glass and they can look out through the ocean for miles. When he mentions this her smile fades. "So... you want to look at fish?"

"Is that so bad?"

She grabs Rodney's hand and turns them towards the armory. His adrenaline spikes like it can only do on missions fraught with imminent death. "How about this, we fire off a few rounds, then find a stack of hay to make out in."

Rodney looks at her like she's suddenly grown two heads. "Stack of hay?"

Alice smiles with a dangerous edge. "You can fly a puddle jumper, right?"

"Yes, but not for joy riding." There's no way he's going to radio Sheppard or Weir to ask about a jumper so he can show off his mediocre flying skills to a date that likes to drink while shooting things. He would never live it down if anyone found out, and someone always finds out on Atlantis. There's only so many people, and all of them like to talk.

Alice seems undaunted. "We'll just have to find a different kind of haystack then."

Rodney scrambles to put a lid on his coffee cup one-handed as she pulls him along. He has a sinking suspicion that asking Alice on a date may have been a little... Hasty.

* * *

The door slams shut behind Rodney and he presses his back against it, his chest is heaving. "If anyone asks you never saw me."

John, reclining on his sofa, calmly looks over the edge of his book. He acts like it's completely normal for Rodney to come bursting through his door out of breath and in a panic. Rodney needs to learn how to do that, the whole calm in the face of danger thing could have been a big help an hour ago. "Did anyone see you come into my quarters?" He asks patiently.

Rodney doesn't remember. He just knows he was running a lot. "I don't think so."

"Then I never saw you." John lifts his book back up and Rodney slides slowly to the floor. Today has not gone the way he had hoped.

John eventually lowers his book again. "Something wrong?"

"I went on a date."

John looks him over critically. "Looks like you just ran from a Wraith."

Rodney grimaces. "I think the only difference between my date and a Wraith is that the Wraith would kill me marginally faster on purpose."

John mirrors his grimace, but Rodney suspects deep down he's amused. "That bad, huh?"

Rodney nods and rubs at his temples. "She thought drinking and guns are a match made in heaven."

The room is quiet for a good few seconds, and then John asks, "did you try dating one of the marines?"

Rodney cocks his head to the side. "Possibly. Why?"

John chuckles, gets up from the couch and to his visible bar fridge where he pulls out a bottle of water, then hands it to Rodney. "That explains the look of utter fear on your face. Do yourself and your team a favor and try not to date them until you get to know them when they're off duty. I really don't feel like scraping you off the bottom of another ocean floor if the date goes bad."

The water is so cold and refreshing it makes Rodney light-headed. He drinks half the bottle in one go. "I'll try to keep that in mind." He mutters.

The room is quiet, and the sunset streaming through the open windows makes the room feel serene. It's so peaceful after the craziness of this afternoon. John's living space is striped in reds and golds, Rodney watches the dust motes swirl lazily through the patches of fading sunlight.

He wonders if it will always be like this for him. If dating will always be a struggle. He's curious if John has ever had it this bad, if he's ever found someone he was interested in only to find they don't fit in every way imaginable. "Is it ever this complicated with you?" He asks quietly.

John goes very still. "It's complicated all the time. Even now... just for different reasons."

He's saying something else with that sentence and Rodney's irritated by it. Why can't people say what they mean and leave it at that? He watches John's hand slide over the book's surface, the quiet whisper of a turning page mixes with the ever-present crashing of distant waves and Rodney watches the way the warm light hits his wrist, the shimmer of tendon and muscle under the skin. He's captivated by his fine wrist hairs and in what direction they grow.

Rodney catches himself looking, feels his stomach flutter and tighten up everything inside. His palms are suddenly sweaty. It's fight or flight all over again and Rodney only knows self-defense. "Thanks for hiding me. I think enough time has passed. I'll just... You know."

As the door swishes shut he hears John say, "Any time, Rodney."

* * *

All Rodney wants to do is sleep. With the stress he's dealt with today, his rest day hasn't felt all that restful. He decides to do something relaxing, so he takes a long, hot shower, and that helps with the knotted muscles - the showers on Atlantis are great, fifteen spray jets from all different directions, and the temperature is perfect because it responds to his mind. That's never going to get old.

After that, he goes into his tiny kitchenette, finds the tea Teyla gave him but hasn't tried yet. She said something about it helping with dreams or sleep, and that's good enough for Rodney. He makes a cup on the hot plate he has in his room. As the tea steeps he breathes in the steam. It smells like peppermint and jasmine and something he's never smelled before, but it's rich and fragrant, no citrus at all.

Then he settles into bed with a few of the 'new physics' papers that came from Earth in the last databurst. It's amazing how people can get things so wrong and still think they're right. He has a good laugh, drinks the rest of the tea, and doesn't think about John or Alice at all as he's finally lulled into peaceful slumber.

* * *

In Rodney's dream he's standing on the north pier looking out at the ocean. Something far in the distance moves, but he can't make it out. As they get closer the telltale sound buzzes around him, like angry bees but lower, more intimidating. Fear prickles at the back of his neck, darts are coming closer and he's trying hard to run to the tower, to let everyone know about the danger, but his legs won't move. He's stuck in place and all he can do is look on helplessly as they fly overhead-

And keep flying as if they never saw the city at all. The cloak must be on! He sighs in relief and he feels a pat on the back. He turns to see who it is. the light changes direction, the salt air dissipates to a familiar smell of stale coffee, heavily perfumed pot-pourri and cooking spaghetti. He's in his parent's house, he's sixteen again and his dad is there patting him on the back for passing his driving test with flying colors. "It was surprisingly simple." Rodney grins.

His father smiles, but it's small and stingy. "Remember, not everything will be this easy." Yeah, yeah, Rodney's heard that one before. His dad is never happy with all the accomplishments he's achieved. There's always something to nitpick.

Rodney's annoyed and turns from his father. He's an adult now, he doesn't have to hear this anymore. He feels the room change again. He blinks rapidly as his eyes focus. He's in Atlantis but it's during their first few days here, he recognizes the stale, mildew smell. They've barely set up the naqada generators, he's in his newly self appointed lab and lights are flashing. Something is very wrong. He runs to the nearest station, and as he goes over the readouts he finds out that the power distribution system is failing. He must work fast to get it running properly again. "Miller? Zelenka?" He calls but there's no answer. "Where is everyone!" He shouts. It echoes through distant, empty rooms.

He feels the city inside his head, a calming, peaceful presence telling him where the power must go, but no matter how Rodney manipulates the system there simply isn't enough. the lights flicker and Rodney is suddenly very, very scared. He doesn't want to be alone in the dark in a city he doesn't know yet. "Please, baby, please, just work for me, will you!"

The lights flicker one last time and Rodney starts to panic, like six years old lost at the PNE surrounded by crowds of strangers kind of panic, and as the lights go out Rodney finds a wall, a table, anything to ground him in the darkness.

"It's the scariest story I've ever heard," a light flicks on, his first girlfriend, Gina, is sitting across from him with a flashlight held to her chin and he's maybe fourteen. He remembers this vacation, his and Gina's family went camping in the Okanagan, the interior of British Columbia and he kissed her under the exact same tree they're sitting under, possibly this exact same night. "Two negatives shouldn't be able to create a positive. Have you ever heard of two wrongs making a right?"

"What?" Rodney shakes his head. "They're just two of the same, that's all. Who said anything about that being wrong?"

Gina sighs, exasperated. "Sometimes, you just don't get it, McKay."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Apparently not. You know what would be nice? If you made sense." He replies sounding petulant, snappy and very, very young.

Gina stands up, looking stung. "Whatever, _Meredith_. I'm going home."

Rodney stands and follows after her. That isn't how this evening went. He was supposed to trip over his words, she was supposed to laugh and try to kiss him on the cheek, and then he would turn at the last minute and kiss her by accident. "I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean it. Well, not totally, anyways. Just - come back!" Rodney tries to chase after her through the trees, but she's gone. He stops to catch his breath, but the air isn't hot and dry any longer, it doesn't have the taste of ripe fruit and young memories.

It's cold and dark, here. He's afraid to open his eyes for a moment. When he does, he's himself again, standing in the observatory under the east pier. The windows are floor to ceiling, easily twelve feet high and the room is lit with soft lights that accentuate the deep blues of the ocean. Shadows of great swimming things pass by. It's too dark to see them properly.

Rodney is both enthralled and terrified at the things that swim in the deep.

"I wonder what it would look like if all those things got to see the light of day." John says softly. Rodney turns and finds John standing beside him, hands on his hips and watching the show with Rodney. "They might even look pretty."

Rodney scoffs. "Some things are meant to live in the dark, Colonel. You ever think of that?"

John turns and smiles at him. It's the one Rodney doesn't know the meaning to, the one that makes him annoyed. "Maybe they live here because they're afraid of the light, not because they're supposed to live in the dark."

Then John's hand slides over his neck, into his hair and pulls Rodney in close, enough to feel the heat from his skin and the smell of his clothing. Jesus, his hands are big. He has strong hands that hold Rodney in place, and John is so close he can see the flecks of grey in his eyes.

"I'm not supposed to do this." Rodney whispers.

"People aren't supposed to do a lot of things, Rodney."

John's mouth brushes his, a light, tentative kiss. Rodney's heart and lungs fill with fear, it makes him breathe faster, makes his heart pump hard and hot under his breastbone. Rodney doesn't want soft. He wants heat and depth and more. He deepens the kiss, wraps his arms around his slim, toned waist and pushes John up against the window.

He's terrified like he is of the swimming things, only this time it's because he's kissing John.

"Oh God, Rodney..." John growls, actually growls into Rodney's ear and wow, does he ever like the way his name sounds when John says it like that.

All he can smell is John's skin and sweat and musk, and his taste takes over the corners of Rodney's mouth. It's dizzying to be surrounded by so much man, to have a male mouth trace the tendon in his neck with his teeth. He knows he should like girls, he can feel the tickle of that thought in the back of his head, but it's overpowered with how good this feels. It's liberating, touching John like this, and Rodney smooths his hands over the wings of John's shoulder blades, the dip at the small of his back, the rippled line of ribs. Every touch is new and thrilling, but nothing compares to John's mouth against his.

John's hands slide from his neck, over his shoulders, down to his ass, squeezes and then brings his hips forward. Rodney is hard and he twitches impossibly harder when their hips grind together. He can feel how hard John is under his BDU's, Rodney swallows down his insecurities and_ moans right into his mouth_.

He wants to feel more, needs to feel it - he jams a leg between John's, grabs his hips and they thrust against each other, and Rodney thinks, Finally, Oh Jesus, Finally...

"Oh my God..." Rodney gasps and blinks awake in his dark bedroom. His dick is hard and he's incredibly close. His hands feel thick and clumsy as they wrap around his cock, and it's only a few quick pulls, then Rodney is coming, Oh, damn, oh _fuck_ - he's coming so hard he can't even _breathe_ when the first shot hits the bed. The orgasm lasts, drawn out and almost painful, and when he's done, Rodney feels like his brain just shot through his dick.

And he dreamt of John when it happened.

"Damn it, this is not-" He says into the darkness and scrubs a rough hand through his hair. This isn't supposed to happen. John is his friend. How can he think these things, dream these things and then look him in the face the next time they meet?

Rodney's never even been attracted to men like this before, this seething, overwhelming need. He doesn't want this at all. He doesn't like muscles and hairy flat chests and hard cock.

_But if it's John's chest, and John's muscles_... Some traitorous part of his mind whispers. Impossibly, his limp cock twitches, and that shouldn't happen either. And just...

"...Fuck." He whispers brokenly.

~TBC~


	5. Stage Five: Breakdown

Wow, this one took much longer to post than I thought! Stupid RL getting in the way of fanfic!

anyways, here's the next installment. Remember, no beta, mistakes are mine, I don't own so no money, yadda yadda.

Czech translation: rozzuřený osel - infuriating ass

Summary: Eventually everything cracks with enough pressure

* * *

**Stage Five: Breakdown**

Rodney stops jerking off. It's not like its serving its purpose, it's supposed to put him in a good mood, and it hasn't done that at all. He also stops dating. Finding someone to fall in love with when parts of him refuse to cooperate is too frustrating.

He feels the tension after a week. He's gotten into two arguments with Elizabeth, reduced three of his staff to tears and Radek has set up a temporary lab down the hall from the main lab, proclaiming he will work 'somewhere not close to that _rozzuřený ose_l.' From the looks on the staff faces that speak Czech it can't be good.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth asks over the raido and of _course_ she calls now, after he's finally started making progress on the new ancient research facility they recently found and what they used it for.

"What now?" He barks. He was enjoying the silence. He doesn't want to deal with idiotic pointless dribble that is human interaction. He wants numbers, formulas, something that makes sense.

"Drop whatever you're doing and head to the gate room."

"Is everything alright?" He asks with a hint of concern. He closes the laptop, picks up his pad and heads for the nearest transport.

"Major Lorne's team has found something... interesting. We'll need your help on this one."

"Figures." He mumbles. Then, louder, "My eta is five minutes."

"Good, Weir out."

Most of the senior staff is in the conference room along with Lorne's team when he gets there. He takes a seat next to Teyla near the end of the table.

When the doors close, Lorne stands. "Ok, as some of you already know, we were doing recon on M7R-382 since there were rumors of Genii activity in the area."

John sits up. "And were there?"

Lorne shakes his head. "Not that we could find. However, we did find this."

He presses a few buttons and the laptop in the centre of the table lights up. It's camera footage from one of the military guys, and they're filming the inside of a dark cave. Fascinating. "Please tell me it gets better?" Rodney asks sardonically.

Elizabeth glares him into silence. "If it wasn't important, I can assure you I would have left you where you were."

Rodney's chagrined enough to keep his mouth shut. The two lieutenants are heckling each other as they pass through the cave, and then, "Hey, Wong, hold on a sec, would ya? I think I saw something over there."

Lieutenant Will Wong goes perfectly still so everyone can see the faint blinking lights from somewhere ahead.

Lieutenant Steffanucci steps closer, her weapon up and ready. Lorne's voice when it comes through the speakers is distant and echoing. "Don't touch anything, we don't want to wake something up if we don't know what it is."

"Sound advice." John nods. Everyone on a gate team should have that as a first rule: If you don't know what it is, don't touch it until after you have more information. And even then, beware.

The camera jiggles as Lieutenant Wong walks forward and around the bend. The cave opens into a room with low ceilings, multiple readout tables and pods at the far end that could fit someone a little taller than a person. Rodney could have forgotten his own name and still recognize that technology.

"A wraith lab." He gasps. His hands are already itching for it. So far, the labs they've found planet side were from AWOL Wraith with bizarre ideas. Rodney can only imagine the information held in that room.

"Have you found what the lab's primary function has been in the past?" Teyla asks.

Lorne pauses the tape. "Not at this time, no. But we have a few ideas."

Rodney stands. "And I will actually be able to tell you for certain. Elizabeth, let me go down there and figure it out."

Elizabeth holds her hand up. "Hold on a second, Rodney, we know very little about this planet and the technology we've seen."

Ronon nods, approving.. "Could also be a trap. Ever thought of that?"

"Well then they made it a poor one, considering all of Lorne's team is healthy and unscathed." Rodney argues with a sweeping gesture at all the very healthy looking members of Lorne's team in the meeting.

Beckett, sitting beside Ronon, clears his throat. "Aye, it's true, the team came back clean."

Teyla doesn't look convinced. "That does not mean the Wraith have not set traps. It has been known to happen in the past." She says evenly.

"Well, ma'am," Lieutenant Wong says from his seat beside Lorne, "there was no Wraith or Genii activity before we entered the cave or after. We did a four-hour search, too. We couldn't find any sign of recent sentient activity in the area. There were a lot of goat like things, though."

"See?" Rodney says. "Barring death by goat - which is highly unlikely - it's completely safe. Now, do we have a go or not?"

Elizabeth gives him a cursory look, then turns her attention to John. "How do you feel about it?"

John stares thoughtfully at the screen. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind knowing what that place is, either." Rodney does a mental jig. "But," And honestly, why does there have to be a but here? "I agree with you, Elizabeth. Even though the place doesn't look like it's been visited recently doesn't mean it isn't so."

"Do you have a plan?" Elizabeth asks.

John chews on a thumbnail, Rodney can see the wheels turning. John likes to pretend he doesn't know what he's doing, but Rodney's played chess with him; under all that hair and cheesy smiles is a brilliant strategist. "We take two other teams. One in a cloaked puddle jumper orbiting the planet and the other split. Two men watch the gate and the other two at the mouth of the cave. I don't like the idea of getting caught with my pants down inside a Wraith lab."

Elizabeth nods, looking pleased. "Choose your teams, be ready tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

* * *

"You know what would be nice? If the puddle jumper could drop us off at the cave entrance." Rodney isn't complaining. He's simply stating a fact.

"That would kind of defeat the picture we want to paint." John reminds him.

Rodney snorts. "They have cloaking capabilities for a reason, Colonel. It would take five minutes."

"Well, consider this your weekly exercise, then." John replies and Ronon chuckles behind him.

Rodney knows if he pushes any more it will turn into an argument and it will change exactly nothing. He decides to spend the rest of the walk working out the Reymann Hypothesis. It's yet another millennium problem that has to do with prime numbers. It's something he fiddles with in his spare time.

He gets the entire mathematical formula laid out in his head and he's starting to pick at it when Ronon steps over a fallen log and points. "There it is."

Sure enough, the cave mouth is right there, partly hidden behind a curtain of plant life that looks suspiciously like poison oak. Rodney makes a mental note to not touch it. He steps forward but John puts a restraining hand on his chest. "I'm taking point. Teyla, Rodney, stay behind me. Ronon, I want you on our six. Lieutenants Steffanucci and Wong, guard the mouth. If anything, and I mean anything happens, radio us up."

"Yessir." Steffanucci says and despite himself, Rodney's getting excited. He feels the exhilaration of learning something new, the anticipation of discovering something alien and completely unknown to the human race, and it's all through that cave.

After the brightness outside, the cave is almost pitch black. The team stumbles around until their eyes adjust. There's only one way to go and Rodney's a little relieved he can't get lost. Five more minutes and he thinks he sees a distant, faint light flash somewhere up ahead.

"Well, this looks like the place." John says quietly from ahead. His gun is up, he looks interested and wary. Teyla's gun is also ready, and Rodney's hand his resting on his. He doesn't like to shoot unless it's strictly necessary.

They take a last turn, just like on the recording and there it is, a complete and untouched Wraith lab. The room is impressive, and Rodney does a slow turn just to take it all in.

"Steffanucci, Wong, you copy?" John asks.

"Reading you loud and clear, sir." Wong says over the radio. The message is full of static. If they went any further they wouldn't hear them at all. Rodney doesn't waste time, he pulls laptops and ancient devices out of his pack and gets to work.

An hour and thirteen minutes later and Rodney is vibrating. This place has centuries worth of material, learning this one system alone could be a lifetimes' worth of work, maybe for some Wraith long ago, it was. Rodney's disturbed at the idea that he or she might still be alive.

Wraith are so creepy.

Teyla, Ronon and John are all walking the perimeter of the room, Rodney turns to John. "Ok, I think I'm ready to turn it on."

"So, you know what it does?" John asks.

"Actually, it's fascinating. It's some kind of medical room from what I can tell, kind of like a hospital for the Wraith."

Teyla and Ronon tense up. "Should we not be concerned that whatever illness they have come upon in their past could affect us?" Teyla asks.

Rodney shakes his head. "I thought of that as well, but it doesn't look like it. From all the scans I've taken, and with all the equipment in here, it's more of a growing room... But different."

"How different?" Ronon asks.

Rodney's getting impatient. He wants to turn it on and not get fifty thousand questions that he may or may not know the answer to. "Different as in it doesn't grow Wraith goons. Or soldiers." Rodney snips. Everyone is uneasy and John looks like he wants to call the whole thing off. He can't have that. "There are only three chambers along the back wall, two of them are damaged from age. From what intel we've gathered, it takes months to grow a Wraith. Turning this on for a few hours will be perfectly safe."

John nods and taps his earpiece. "Alright, guys, the show's about to start. Stay sharp, let me know if anything out there changes, got it?"

"You got it, sir." Steffanucci replies. John nods to Rodney and he turns the machinery on.

It takes another fifteen minutes hashing through Wraith code and pointless information, but Rodney has a gut feeling and follows one of the lab readouts and all the information it gathered last time it was used. "Oh my God." Rodney whispers as he reads.

"Oh my God, good? Or oh my God, we need to go before we die horribly and painfully? " John asks.

Rodney snaps his head up. "I know what they were working on down here." He goes to a second workstation and hits a few buttons to confirm the data he's found. Rodney's hands start to tremble. "John, if this information is correct, this lab is for creating Queens."

John's eyes go comically wide. "How is that possible!"

Rodney taps buttons and turns knobs to get all the pertinent info showing on the screen. "It's all right here. We know how the soldiers and the grunts work, or at least how they're grown, it's all due to the Queen. Beckett has a working theory that they grow Queen Wraith similar to how bees do it, where the grunts take care of a specific pod, possibly even give it food as we've seen with your little friend Todd, there. Wraith aren't supposed to be fed while still in the pods. It has to change their body chemistry in some huge way."

"And after a time, you get a lovely bouncing Wraith Queen." John looks grossed out. Rodney sympathizes with him. Beckett was way more in-depth about how it worked. Rodney still can't eat honey, and he liked it, too.

"But with the information held in this lab we're going to need a new theory. In fact, I'm pretty sure it won't be a theory at all after this."

John looks over the read-outs. "You're that sure about this lab?"

"Yeah, I am."

John nods and smiles. "Good job, McKay."

Rodney feels that smile in his chest and belly, warm and comfortable. Then the ground shakes, a few small rocks tumble from overhead and Rodney thinks of all the things he's turned on. He thought he scanned all of them for homing beacons and boobie traps. What if he missed one and a hive ship is overhead now?

"Sir? You ok in there?" Steffanucci asks over the radio.

John puts a hand to his earpiece and looks uneasily at the roof. "Lieutenant, how long were you in this cave before you left to check the surrounding area?"

"I don't know. Maybe half an hour. Why?"

"Because it feels a little unsafe just now. Did you guys feel a tremor?"

"No, but we heard rumbling from inside. Hey, if you're feeling tremors you should get out of there. We can do a ground check for the cave's stability before you go back in."

The ground shakes again and this time it's worse. Rodney grabs for his laptop before it smashes. "You know, I'm starting to like that idea." If this place was left perfectly untouched for thousands of years, then what could once have been a stable environment might be a little too old to handle multiple feet stomping around, vibration from multiple voices and the hum of machinery at the same time. Rodney looks at the roof and does a few calculations in his head. "In fact, I'm all for it. Pack up, we need to leave."

Rodney is always amazed at how fast Ronon can move. He grabs what few electronics are hanging around and stuffs them in Rodney's pack before Rodney's done closing and stashing his laptop under his tack vest. He normally has a lot of things to say about that, but he can save the lecture for later. "Here." Ronon unceremoniously throws him the pack. It smacks him hard in the side of the face.

"Ow?" Rodney says and holds his cheek as he heads towards the cave entry. "You know, next time can you do me a favor and hit me right in the face? I think there's an inch around my left temple you missed."

Ronon chuckles and Teyla follows him through. The tremors start again, the ground shakes under his feet; all around him there's crashing and yelling. Everything goes horribly dark and something heavy and warm hits him through the middle hard enough to knock him back a few feet.

"Rock slide!" John yells and Rodney should know this, but he can't breathe with the wind knocked out of him and he's dizzy with the lack of oxygen. He breathes shallowly and coughs at the thick dust.

He can't see a thing when the dust fades. He gropes around in the dark, finds his pack and snaps a few glow sticks. John lies next to him, his arms are tight around his middle and he's propped up against one of the cave walls. Where the exit out of the lab should be is a dense load of rock.

"Oh no." Rodney feels panic rising and he scrambles to his feet. He's never been stuck in a room with no way out and a limited amount of air, food and water. Even the jumper had CO2 scrubbers when he ended up at the bottom of the ocean. He has no idea how deep the rock goes and he feels the weight of the roof bearing down on him, the closeness of the walls.

Rodney _hates_ confined spaces.

"Teyla? Ronon!" Rodney shouts nervously over the radio. All he gets is static. The panic rises up anther notch. This can't be happening. The walls feel as if they're pressing on his skin. He can't breathe, Oh, Christ...

Rodney is three seconds away from total hysteria and he can't have that. If he doesn't get his shit back under control then they're as good as dead. He closes his eyes, thinks of open fields, imagines wind on his face, clouds float slowly by. The hysteria ebbs, and Rodney uses the peace from that vision and holds it in his mind when he opens his eyes.

The walls and ceiling are still nauseatingly close but the hysteria is fading. It's not the best fix, but it will have to do.

"We're in here!" He shouts at the wall of rock, but he doesn't hear a reply. "You hear me? We're alive!"

"Rodney?" John asks, haggard and breathless. Rodney turns, John's still lying on his side, gripping his ribs. between his fingers Rodney sees a flash of dark wetness and Rodney's blood runs cold.

"How bad is it?" Rodney asks and carefully peels away John's torn shirt to look at the mess. There's a lot of blood, but most of it's surface damage, it looks messier than it is. One cut along the line of his ribs will need stitches, though.

"I've had worse." John tries to sit up and freezes. "Then again..." John groans and breathes shallowly. "I think my ribs are broken."

"It looks like it. Where's your pack?" Rodney asks and follows the nudge of John's chin to his pack lying a few feet away. Rodney pulls out all the things inside, cataloging and planning as he goes until he finds the med kit. "Ok, we have at least three MRE's, a bunch of power bars, two and a half canteens of water, an ancient life signs detector, my laptop, a thermal blanket and a change of clothes." He rattles these off as he cleans the wound. John's face goes very, very pale when he cleans it. This is yet another reason he never became a doctor. Sometimes a person has to hurt to heal and Rodney doesn't want to hurt anyone, especially John.

"Sounds like we should be good for a few days, at least." John grits. "Here, tie the bandage tight, like this." Despite the pain he must be in, John shows Rodney how to tie the bandage around him to help the cut and the ribs at the same time.

Rodney ties off the bandage and stands as he looks over the room. "Well, our food and water problems are fine, yes, but I'm not so sure about the air. Judging from the size of this place we probably have a day and a half, maybe two, tops."

"Always a glass half full kind of guy, huh?" John says sarcastically and Rodney helps him lie down so he can take some pressure off his side.

"I think of myself as more of a realist, thank you." Rodney pops the cap off a half drunk canteen of water and holds it to John's mouth. "Here, drink this. It'll help with the fluid loss."

John gives him a dirty look and holds his good hand out. "I'm not a quadriplegic, Rodney. I can give myself water."

Rodney stands back up. "I try to be nice, and no one responds the way I think they should. If I'm myself, everyone reacts the same."

"That's one way of looking at it." John chuckles but it turns into a wheeze.

"Don't laugh. It isn't good for you." Rodney goes to find the life signs detector.

"I'll try to keep that in mind."

He notices the screen is cracked when he gets a better look at it. He thinks 'on' and it doesn't respond. "Great. Just great." Rodney chucks the detector in a fit of frustration. It lands with a crash on the other side of the room. "The life sign detector is broken."

"Because you threw it, or before that?"

"Before that. Why would I throw a perfectly good piece of equipment?"

John tries to shrug and stops half way with a wince. "You get angry at things?"

"Your powers of observation are truly one of a kind. Thank you very much, Einstein. However, you are sadly mistaken."

"So... You're saying you didn't throw it because you got mad?"

Rodney's mouth hangs open for a moment too long. "You know what? I need to concentrate. Stop talking."

Rodney turns from John's knowing smirk and paces the room while looking at the rock fall. If he picks at it he could cause a secondary slide and use up their air faster, possibly damaging himself in the process. If he leaves it alone, they will die in two days anyways. Maybe there's something in here that can help. He snaps his fingers as an idea sparks. If there's a medical scanner maybe Rodney can jimmy-rig it to scan through rock so digging them out could be a little easier and a lot safer.

He finds the scanner but it's damaged, being on one of the consoles closest to the rock slide. He finds his own pack, finds a kit, pulls off a piece of the console plating and finds that the damage isn't too bad. He can get this fixed in an hour or two.

Rodney takes a deep, steadying breath. "Ok, I think I have a plan."

John looks from the ceiling to him. "That's good, because I can't do much in my current condition."

He hates seeing John like this. He's always the one in charge, all movement and orders and easy smiles, not broken and bleeding in a corner. "What you're going to do is lie back and be amazed at my genius." Rodney tries to smile, relays the plan and John looks doubtful and thoughtful in turns.

"Can you be sure you won't cause another slide?" John asks.

"No, that I can't do. But like I said, the chances will be greatly decreased."

John nods. "Alright, do it, but be careful. The last thing we need is another ton of rock separating us from the exit."

Rodney nods and starts fixing the scanner. It takes three hours to fix and then rig it to scan through rock. All the information shows up on one of the Wraith screens.

"What were you able to find?" John stands and carefully walks over to the read-out screen, where Rodney has turned stone still. John knows enough Wraith to know what it says.

The fallen rock goes on for meters. There's no way Teyla and Ronon could have survived the collapse.

"They're resourceful." John says quietly. His hand grips Rodney's shoulder too tightly. Rodney can't talk around the lump in his throat, only nods.

All he can think about are things he hasn't done yet. He's supposed to introduce Teyla to the world of cartoons next week, and he's going to show Ronon what a balanced meal actually looks like. They can't be gone. Not like this.

His eyes burn and his stomach is knotted. Rodney can't think of this now. If he does, he won't fit anything else inside his head. "You should lie down." He says.

John looks like hell but he stands his ground. "I've had broken bones before."

"So have I, so just go and sit, I'll figure this out."

"I can't sit there and do nothing!" John snaps. "Now, you said something about moving those rocks, right?"

Rodney thinks about shouldering John out of the way, but he doesn't. The help would not come amiss. "We have to try." He doesn't say that the air will be used up long before they reach the end of the rock fall. "At least take something for the pain, John, the med kit has-"

"If I do that I won't think straight." John says wearily. "And I need to be alert."

Idiot. He's such an idiot and Rodney wants to yell at him, get him to sit and recover, but Sheppard is stubborn as a mule when he's got an idea in his head, and the tilt of his jaw tells Rodney that arguing will get him nowhere. "Fine. Don't whine to me when you pass out from the pain."

"I can't do much," John says, the closest he will get to admitting he's damaged and in pain. "But I can give you readout information as you go. Make sure you don't knock out anything that makes things worse."

Rodney gives him a once over. He's leaning heavily on the console, his mouth is a hard line and he's sweaty and pale, but his eyes are clear. "Ok, just try not to pass out over the read-outs. We need them to get out."

The corner of John's mouth wears the ghost of a smile and Rodney turns away from it, feeling guilty. He can't think when John is trying to make him feel better, especially when he most likely got hurt saving Rodney.

Moving rocks is a tedious, slow, back-breaking job, and after every few minutes he has to wait for John to tell him if anything changed, where to go next, and make sure he doesn't get hurt, either. John gives him pointers, tells him the angle he should pull the next rock to make sure others don't come tumbling down.

It's surreal. He should be the one at the read-outs, and John should be doing this. Every once in a while John gives him a look that says he's thinking the same thing. Somehow, that helps.

After what feels like days of work Rodney moves a rock and it rolls over his foot. He swears loudly and sits down hard on the floor, holding his ankle. "You've been at this for hours, Rodney. You need to take a break." John says softly.

Rodney nods. The adrenaline has worn off and all the little bumps and bruises are screaming for attention. His knees feel bruised, his elbow hurts and his hands are scraped raw. He wants to sleep for days.

John goes slowly to the corner where they originally landed and opens an MRE. He takes a seat next to John and drinks carefully from a canteen. They share an MRE in silence and Rodney decides to take a nap. Only a short one, because his eyes refuse to stay open. When he lies down next to John, all he can hear is shivering. "You cold?" He asks. He knows that isn't a good sign. Although the room is damp, it isn't overly cold.

John looks grimly at the ceiling. "I'm fine. Just go to sleep."

"Like hell I will." He gets up, ignoring his aching muscles and wraps him and John in the thermal blanket. John's hands are cold, and Rodney feels his forehead. He doesn't have a temperature. He thinks that's a good sign.

"Will you quit mothering me?" John growls and tries feebly to smack his hand away.

"You're in pain, I get it. You refused the meds and that's your choice, I'm just trying to help, here. Be nice, say thank you and shut up."

"Yes, mom." John sniffles into the blanket near his neck, close enough that Rodney feels it over his skin.

Rodney lies there, thinking about Teyla, about Ronon and how he almost lost John, too. Rodney's been alone for most of his life. He has few friends, and the ones he has aren't exactly what he would call close. But his team is different, they're like family, the closest thing he's had since-ever.

To think Teyla and Ronon are gone-his chest feels empty, like with them he was whole and didn't realize it until they weren't there. He doesn't want this to be the end, he wants Ronon's deep, teasing voice annoying him until he's old and grey, wants Teyla's thoughtful insights into other worlds nattering in his ear for years to come, wants their sturdy weights walking beside him, behind him, hemming him in and keeping him safe. Keeping him whole.

"Damn it." Rodney whispers as his eyes prickle with tears.

"They got out. I know they did." John's good hand slides over Rodney's middle. He knows it's for comfort, but he still stiffens at the contact. No one touches him, not even his team. John picks up on the strain and moves his hand back.

Rodney feels incredibly scared. He doesn't want John's last thoughts to be that Rodney doesn't want his touch. It's so far from the truth it's laughable. He grabs John's hand, pulls him until his head is resting in the crook between Rodney's head and shoulder, their bodies pressed tight. Their legs tangle together and that wide, gaping hole recedes so Rodney can breathe again.

"A lot of things aren't certain, John." Rodney murmurs as he runs dirty fingers through John's unruly hair. Maybe he's starting to understand putting more than one meaning into a statement. John's body melts into his and Rodney's breathless with how _right_ this feels.

"I know." John agrees. Rodney can feel his breath, warm and moist over his collarbone. "But we know them. They got out. We have to keep believing that, you hear me?"

Rodney nods but a tear slips out, and Rodney is glad the glowstick light has died. No one can see him fall apart.

It feels almost too good, holding John in the dark. He's anchored to something alive and breathing and real, to the one person he feels connected to like no other. All the self imposed rules and the lies he's told himself don't matter here, not when the wide mouth of death looms over them. He curls into warmth and life, careful of the broken ribs and the gash and just holds John in sleep, running greedy fingers over hair and skin and dirty clothing.

He presses his lips to John's forehead, breathes him in, caresses the back of his neck. And for the first time since Rodney was very, very little, he closes his eyes and prays.

* * *

He wakes to rocks crashing in the distance. Rodney is awake and instantly alert. "What's going on?" He yells.

John looks wide eyed at the blocked entrance. "I don't know, I think it's-"

"Never thought I'd be this happy to hear those voices, but I am." It's Ronon.

Ronon is alive!

Rodney scrambles from under the blanket and towards the noise. "Oh thank God you're ok! Hows Teyla?" He shouts.

He hears more rocks sliding away just up and to the right and Rodney starts doing the same on their side, heedless of the pain in his hands. "It was damn close for both of us. She got a rock to the head so she's out of commission for a while. You guys?"

"John's hurt, he'll need a medical team." And just there is a crack of light. Rodney's never been so happy to get a flashlight beam in the face until now.

* * *

Rodney doesn't like hospitals, however, he likes hospital food. Maybe that's the universes way of making his stay palatable.

He bruised his elbow bone and his ankle's sprained. Beckett kept him overnight to make sure he didn't miss anything and he's finally released today, after two helpings of breakfast. John isn't doing as well. He broke three ribs and cracked another two. He has seventeen stitches and a mild concussion. He's sleeping in the bed next to the one Rodney vacated earlier today.

Beckett was clear about Rodney not going back to work for three days, and with the pain he's in, he's in total agreement. After showering and changing he's back in the infirmary. He wants to check up on John.

He doesn't want to admit it, but when they were in that cave he thought Ronon and Teyla really were lost in the rock slide and John was the only one left. His one pin-point in a sea of cold, formidable strangers. Not that the people in Atlantis were strangers anymore, but still. Intellectually, he knows everyone is ok, but it's like the rest of Rodney hasn't caught up yet. He needs to see John once more, make sure he's here and alive and breathing.

He stands next to the bed. John is sleeping; he looks peaceful, innocent and impossibly young. Rodney pushes a lock of hair off John's forehead and smiles.

"Mmmf?" John mutters. His eyelids flutter and open. His face creases in pain, and then wakefulness, and there he is, the face Rodney knows so well. "Rodney?"

"Hey, John. How are you feeling?"

John frowns. "Ok, I guess, all things considered. Well, as long as I don't move." His eyes sharpen on Rodney. "How are you?"

Rodney pats his crutches. "Sprained ankle, bumps and bruises. Nothing overly spectacular."

John nods and smiles. "Good to hear."

Rodney returns the smile and takes a deep breath. "I want to thank you for, you know, keeping me together back there. I'm an incredibly intelligent person so it may shock you to know, but sometimes my emotions can get the better of me. I mean, I remember once in first year university when I met my Physics teacher, I mean, wow, that was-"

John's eyes glitter with amusement. "Rodney. You're welcome."

"I guess that's what I was getting at. So, yes." Rodney clears his throat and looks at the wall just above John's head. "Thank you."

"You know, it goes both ways."

Rodney stares at John, confused. "It does?"

John nods and smiles again, only it's the one Rodney doesn't understand. It's secretive, small and incredibly sweet. It makes Rodney feel strange; it's that panicky-warm feeling and he doesn't know what to do with it. "If it was just me in that place, how far do you think I would have gotten?"

No matter what, John can get out of any situation. But now that he thinks of it, John wouldn't have gotten out of there in the time he did without Rodney. "Huh." Rodney says. John takes his hand and squeezes. "I never really thought of it like that."

"Well, now you can. Thank you, Rodney."

Rodney squeezes back. "You're welcome, John."

They stay like that for a few more moments with John's hand in his and Rodney feeling warm. When a nurse comes around the corner John lets go and slides his hand under the blanket. Rodney frowns at his empty hand.

"I should go. Get some sleep. Radio me when they let you out, ok?" Rodney asks.

John nods. He looks tired. "Ok. See you."

~TBC~


	6. Stage Six: Realization

**Stage Six: Realization**

Ever since they found the Atlantis Medical bay, a lot of things once considered serious injury dropped in severity. Issues that once needed exploratory surgery or complex operations now only needs the med bay scanner, and human physiology compared to Ancients are so similar that many of the remedies in the medical database can be used for the expedition members.

Teyla has four stitches at the back of her head (due to getting hit with what Rodney would modestly refer to as a huge boulder, Teyla keeps insisting it was a fist sized rock) and a nasty concussion, but within days she's able to resume her usual duties. Ronon only suffered a fractured wrist -

_"What were ye thinkin', helping with the Rescue team, Ronon?" Carson asks. He looks very annoyed as he wraps Ronon's wrist with the Ancients version of a cast. It's incredibly thin, lightweight and of course, blue._

_Rodney's in a lot of pain from the nurse bandaging his foot, but still smiles as Ronon shrugs. "They needed help." He replies, as if it's silly to even ask._

_Carson rolls his eyes. "And I'll need all the help I can get with you lot."_

Not everything is fixed with a snap of a finger, but Rodney's sprained ankle only takes a week to heal, Ronon's wrist takes two, and John's seven week recovery time reserved for broken and cracked ribs is reduced to three. Rodney is very glad of that. He doesn't like seeing his friends in pain.

However, there's a part of him, - an ugly part Rodney refuses to acknowledge - kind of wishes it would take the full seven.

He doesn't want John out of commission, that's not it at all. It's just-Rodney doesn't want to be around him these days. It's not because he doesn't like John, quite the contrary. He wants to be around John _all the time_, wants to goof around and laugh with him, watch movies curled up on the couch next to him and soak up as much of the man as humanly possible.

Rodney wants to measure the width of those shoulders with his hands, wants to know what the skin right behind John's ear tastes like. And therein lies the problem.

He avoids John as much as possible, but eventually Team Night catches up with him. He debates if he should skip out and make some excuse, just hole himself up in his lab for the evening and work, but Atlantis is running beautifully for once. Zelenka fixed the major naqada generator power distribution problems while he was out of commission - a hack that Rodney will definitely need to fix up - but no other pressing astrophysics or engineering issues are hanging over their heads.

So when Teyla comes to pick him up - the glint in her eye makes Rodney wonder if his internal debate wasn't so internal after all, he goes with her, even takes the bag she was carrying for her, and they all meet in John's quarters. He's still having trouble getting around with his ribs.

"I have decided to help all of us with our recoveries," Teyla says shortly after Ronon arrives and heads straight for John's kitchenette, bringing the bag Teyla brought with her.

"Oh yeah?" John asks, Rodney can almost see his ears perk like a cat.

"Uh-oh." Ronon says under his breath and Rodney starts to worry. It's not often Ronon is negative about a team member.

Teyla patently ignores him. "Rodney and I shall make a fortifying stew."

"How did I get involved in this?" Rodney squawks.

Teyla looks at him cooly. "Ronon's wrist will not allow him the proper motions to cut things, and John's ribs limit his movements as well. Therefore, you shall help me." She says, matter of fact, then starts pulling vegetables and cooking implements out of her bag.

John looks a little wilted around the edges. "Are you making that tuddle root stew again?"

Teyla's cool look turns positively icy. "And what is wrong with my stew?"

There are some social skills Rodney's inept at, but even he knows this is dangerous territory.

"Well, it's just that-" John looks like he's searching for words that won't get him killed. "Nothing, I'm sure it will help." He ends lamely.

"I don't know what you guys are whining about, I love the stuff." Rodney replies loudly. Teyla makes good stew. Ok, so it might be a little crispy here and there, but it adds to the overall flavor. He doesn't understand why these two don't like it.

"Suck up." He hears Ronon mutter.

Rodney and Teyla get to work in the kitchen. Rodney's never been good at cooking and it would go a lot faster if Teyla didn't have to tell him step-by-step everything he needs to do. Since they're in John's quarters he gets to choose the music. Rodney was expecting something twangy and hard due to the Johnny Cash poster staring at him from over the bed, but it's smooth and mellow; it plays quietly in the background.

While they prepare the meal John teaches Ronon how to play chess.

"So, I can take your porn?" Ronon asks four moves in.

"_Pawn_." John corrects him, his cheeks are bright and his ears are a startling shade of pink when Rodney looks over. "Their called pawns."

"Yeah, pawn." Ronon repeats with a tiny knowing smile. Ronon moves his knight, picks up the black pawn he took and throws it over his shoulder.

"Uh Ronon..." John says at the piece lying on the floor by the window.

Ronon looks at the piece and then back at the board, a look Rodney can't read passes over his face. "Oh, yeah, sorry." He says and goes to pick it up. "There's a game on Sateda we used to play. When you took the other person's piece you'd throw it over your shoulder."

Rodney's surprised, it's only recently that Ronon talks about Sateda. After those conversations he becomes more quiet than his usual stoic self for long days and spends hours in the training room. He looks closely, but Ronon's shoulders are relaxed, and he's smiling, or the nearest thing to it.

John nods. "We used to do that with salt for good luck."

Teyla stops chopping. "You used to play games with salt?" She asks uncertainly.

Ronon snorts. "See, Teyla? I told you Earthers are weird."

Rodney sighs loudly. "We never played games with it." Rodney quips from the kitchen. "It was a highly pointless and arcane ritual that isn't practiced any longer. Salt was once a precious commodity, so if you poured too much or spilled it then you had to throw some over your shoulder as an offering to the good spirits, or ward away the bad ones."

"So, which one was it - good or bad?" Ronon asks as he studies the move John made.

John shrugs. "Depended on where you lived, I guess." He replies.

"The Athosians had something similar," Teyla says as she dumps vegetables into the broth. "In the ancient days, before my people were given the gift of sensing the Wraith, there was a plant called the renzicul. It is very rare, and blooms even more rarely. It was believed that when the flowers bloomed the Wraith were awakening. It became a rule that if one were to cut the plant down it would endanger us. It was incredibly bad luck even to walk upon it. But if you were to bring a bloom to the village, it was very good luck."

"At least that one makes sense." Rodney says as he grates a dark red vegetable. It has the consistency of cheese, but it smells like spicy carrots.

"Did it ever work?" John asks.

Teyla shrugs as she stirs the stew. "It is hard to say, but there must have been a reason for my people to have believed it."

When Teyla doesn't know the answer to something she sounds incredibly diplomatic. "So, you're not sure, then." Rodney surmises with a smug smile.

Teyla tilts her head thoughtfully. "My people are still here, so I believe that maybe it did help, although I cannot be certain." She looks down at Rodney's grating job and sighs. "Like this, Rodney."

Teyla shows him how to grate the absurdly red cheese-carrot again. "I told you I'm not a good cook." Rodney mutters.

"And yet you are making dinner for us all." Teyla rebuts, which is such a huge stretch of the truth it's painful. "Soon you will be able to make this without my help. I look forward to the day."

"That will be interesting. I can't wait to see the apron." John says, Ronon chuckles and John gives Rodney an appreciative once-over that makes him flush and look pointedly away.

"If my cooking skills have anything to say about it, that will be a long way off, as in the never to be fulfilled fantasy world that you've obviously concocted within the confines of your head." Rodney replies. He wonders if John really has imagined him being domestic in his kitchen and cooking something just for the two of them. Sitting and eating alone together. Sharing evening conversation and seeing that sweet little smile John sometimes gives him between mouthfuls of food.

Teyla, John and Ronon keep up the conversation, but Rodney becomes uncharacteristically quiet. He stops grating and sneaks another look at John. He looks so comfortable. His long legs are stretched under the chess table, and his intelligent eyes are studying the board and laughing at something Ronon says at the same time. John reaches out and touches the Queens Rook, taps it with his index finger and Rodney can't tear his eyes away.

It's not his hand that he's obsessed with now, it's the easy curve of his back, the messy flip of his hair, that full bottom lip and how soft it looks when he smiles. John turns his head a fraction, instinct kicks in and Rodney looks away as John looks up.

He feels John's eyes on him. His heart is beating too fast under his chest, his mouth is dry and he has a sudden wild thought that he should leave, simply walk out the door and save himself a world of problems. Rodney knows that's rude though, so he grates the root instead and keeps from looking anywhere else but at the food in front of him.

Dinner is very good, and even though John originally complained about it, he still eats two helpings and Ronon eats three. It's amazing how much Ronon can eat in a single sitting.

After dinner they sit and watch a cartoon. Rodney and John are sitting on the couch, Ronon is on the floor, legs stretched out and his back against the far side of the couch, and Teyla sits in the only other chair. "There are animals that talk." Teyla says, looking disturbed.

John offers the bowl of popcorn to Teyla, who takes a few pieces out of politeness. "Animals have personalities," John explains. "We've had talking animals in Earth culture for... Huh. A long time."

"There's some cultures built on animals that can talk." Rodney finishes for him.

Teyla eyes the talking animals. "I think I am starting to understand why certain people from your planet refuse to eat meat."

Rodney snorts. "No, it's because hippies like the idea of eating rabbit food instead of something real." He replies. "Maybe that's why their skinny and angry. They're always hungry." He adds thoughtfully.

Teyla still has that little crease between her brows. "I do not like the idea that food can talk."

Ronon looks mildly uncomfortable, too. John and Rodney share a look and realization hits them at the same time. It hits way too close to home for the Pegasus galaxy. They decide to switch the movie to a random comedy flick John has on his laptop. Ronon laughs loudly and at length at the new movie, mostly at points that aren't supposed to be funny at all and Rodney wonders again at the many cultural differences between Satedans and the rest of the universe.

Rodney is also incredibly tense, even though he knows he shouldn't be. John is sitting beside him, the warmth of his body is like a furnace along his side. All he wants to do is hold John's hand, and all he can think of is how nice it would be to press more firmly into that warmth. To taste his mouth.

At one point John nudges him to pay attention and out of nowhere Rodney thinks 'I don't know if I can pretend any longer.' That scares the shit out of him. He isn't pretending, he tells himself. He's straight. He wants to be straight. He wants John as his friend. That's all.

What scares him most is that he isn't sure if he believes that any longer.

* * *

He tries anew to find another date because he needs this to work. He needs to find a distraction - any distraction to put him back on the right track. Rodney ignores how it feels more and more like desperation and no longer an interest like it should. It takes a week but he finally finds her. Her name is Rosemary Cohen, she's a double PhD, one in linguistics, and one on neurosciences, specifically neurolinguistics. She's one of the departmental heads of the Xenolinguistics teams and is incredibly smart in her field, and yeah, it might be one of the softer sciences, but Rodney is still willing to give it a go.

She's also slim and athletic with chin length honey blonde hair and the most striking green eyes he's ever seen.

He takes her to his quarters where he's laid out some food from the mess and arranged it to look nice, the way Teyla showed him. He also brought a bottle of wine, he had to trade a week of night shifts for it, but it was totally worth it.

"I had no idea you could cook!" She laughs and it's throaty and rich. Rodney notices that it's an octave or two higher than John's.

"I'm not actually a cook, I got most of this from the mess, actually. However, I did help Teyla cook some tuddle root stew a few days ago and nothing caught on fire. If I think of a recipe as a formula, it goes better."

Rosemary nods, looking impressed at the spread. "That's a good way to look at cooking." She takes a forkful of dinner and asks, "she's on your gate team, right?"

"Who, Teyla? Yeah, she is." Rodney replies absently as he picks through the mashed almost-potatoes.

"I wouldn't mind going on a gate team." Rosemary admits. "I don't know how I would feel about doing it full-time like you do, though. I mean, where do you find the time to lead your department properly?"

Rodney stops picking at the potatoes and shrugs. "A lot of sleepless nights. And of course, my teams help. My gate team and the science team, that is. Zelenka is surprisingly good at paperwork."

She laughs again and this time Rodney tries to enjoy it.

Their conversation spans multiple subjects, and she even surprises him by knowing a bit of leading astrophysics studies. "Oh, it's just a hobby of mine." She demurs, and Rodney thinks that's really, really cool.

The rest of the evening goes incredibly well. He thinks he's found someone who can help him with this little non-problem of his. As he leads her to the door of his quarters at the end of the night, she runs a hand down his arm and holds his hand.

"This was really... Nice." He says, and means it.

Rosemary smiles right back. "It was." She leans in to kiss him, and Rodney hesitates for a second, then follows through. He can smell her perfume. It's something light and sweet, it matches her personality.

She pulls back and sighs. "Rodney, what were you thinking when you kissed me?"

"What?" He asks blankly. Her question feels like it's coming out of left field. Girls don't usually ask things like that.

"What were you thinking?" She repeats. She looks earnest and curious.

Rodney frowns. "Your perfume. It's nice. Why?"

Her green eyes drop to look at their still linked hand. "Not anything like you want to see me again, or..." She blushes a little. "Anything like that?" She looks shyly up from under dark lashes.

Rodney frowns again. "Well, I would like to do this again."

Rosemary looks him over for a minute, and then looks at her feet and chuckles. "It seems like... I don't know. Like you wish you were somewhere else, or I was someone else."

"Oh, no, no, no," Rodney panics. "That's not it at all. It's possible I might be a little distracted, yes, but that's because of work. That's all."

Rosemary nods. She has the same look Heightmeyer wears when she says something that cuts Rodney to his soul. It makes him sweat. "I'll tell you what I think. It's not because of work. I think there's someone else you're interested in." She forces a laugh and Rodney tries not to cringe at the disappointed undertone. "She must be something."

Rodney looks at her hands in his. They are small, delicate and soft. She doesn't have a single callous and there's only the lightest brushing of a tan. "... Yeah." He says very, very quietly. Rosemary's eyes light up in triumph that she was right, and sadden at the same time.

"I like you, Rodney. But I'd like it more if you liked me back the same way." Rodney wants to refute his last statement. He knows if he does he will look desperate and needy, and those aren't good traits in a potential partner. Rosemary nods and lets go of his hand. "If it turns out this... something with her doesn't work out, please, by all means, call me again, ok?"

"What if I call you tomorrow anyways?" He asks.

She narrows her eyes and looks at him for a long moment. Rodney wants to squirm under her gaze. "Will it change how you feel about her?"

Now it's Rodney's turn to take great interest in his footwear. "Probably not."

"Then that's my answer for you, too." She says, just as quiet. She lifts his chin with her fingers so they're looking at each other again. "I want something real with you, Rodney. I don't want to wonder if I'm the second choice."

Rosemary kisses his cheek and slips out the door. After she leaves Rodney stares at the closed door for long moments, then sits very carefully on his couch and puts his head in his hands.

She's perfect. She's intelligent and funny and sweet and almost as smart as he is. He should go after her, tell her she was wrong and schedule another date with her because he wants to see her again. He really does.

He wants this to work. He needs this to work, damn it. So why is he sitting here, looking forlornly at his Athosian coffee table instead of chasing after her like he's supposed to? Because if he's completely honest with himself, this whole construct he's built up hasn't been working for a long damn time, he admits. He knows Rosemary is beautiful, of course he's attracted to her, but it's not like he wants to sleep with her.

Rodney stops breathing for a full three seconds. He doesn't want to sleep with her. He lets that realization sink in. Then he thinks hard about the last time he's wanted to sleep with anyone. All he can come up with is John.

Rodney wants to yell. He wants to pick up the closest breakable object and just-throw it and hear it smash, then watch it crack into a thousand tiny pieces. He doesn't. He sits in the dark with his head in his hands and his life flashing before his eyes, and it's the rock slide all over again, with the fear and the panic and the growing nausea, but this time it's because what he thought was right all along just... Isn't. And no matter how hard he tries, and how compatible the girl seems, it just will. Not. Fucking. Work.

And for the first time in Rodney's life, he leans back and closes his eyes and allows himself to imagine what it would be like to have a relationship with another man. He's so scared he feels his hands shake and sweat gather at his temples. How it would feel to have half the closet full of another man's clothing, two razors on the bathroom counter, two pairs of heavy boots on the mat by the door? The sock drawer would be in complete and utter chaos because if one man is incapable of folding socks, than two would be a disaster.

His breath catches.

What if he had the freedom to trace his fingers over hot, hard flesh, taste another man's mouth, hear another low, growling moan in his ear. The stubble burn would be twice as bad since there would be two of them, and he could only imagine the knowing looks he would get at work the next day if left unchecked.

His hands clench.

How nice would it be to have a small, secretive smile waking him up in the mornings, his partners chin covered in stubble, his hair adorably mussed from sleep? He could only imagine the arguments they would get into. Rodney would at least hope they would be to the point and not have to get into the feelings of the matter quite so rampantly like his female partners have in the past. And after that argument, what if Rodney could wrap his arms around a toned waist, skimming down to a set of slim hips and kissing the back of a very male neck, whispering his apology and being held in strong, sturdy, masculine arms?

His heart aches.

It's not that he doesn't want this, he realizes now. He wants this so much he's terrified of it. The enormity of how right and perfect this feels makes him dizzy, makes his chest hurt and tears burn behind his eyelids. Rodney's never prone to being overcome with emotion. He doesn't cry at weddings or anything like that, but he's damn close to crying now, because, because-

God, it could be so fucking perfect.

~TBC~


	7. Stage Seven: Acceptance

After the most ridiculous bout of writers block on this chappie it's - _Omigod_ it's finally done. Here, just-take it.

All mistakes are mine, all mine, so if you notice something let me know so I can fix it up.

* * *

**Stage Seven: Acceptance**

It takes about three days for Rodney to mentally and emotionally scrape himself off the floor. He would have preferred a week to have this little breakdown, but there are too many things to do in Atlantis only he and Zelenka can do. He's maybe not so quick with his work as he usually is, but he thinks he's done an okay job, considering he just knocked his life into tiny shards and duct taped it back together again.

Rodney hasn't looked too far below his own surface much, there's always been so many other important things to focus on, like school, then work, and now Atlantis. There's always been distractions. He should have gotten all this out of his system at sixteen, and he feels a little guilty about that, too. Like he's looking back on his life and seeing all this wasted time.

So it feels strange, this... knowledge and understanding he now has about his feelings and who he really sees in the mirror these days. He isn't so much of a stranger to himself anymore. Now that he knows and he's finally admitting to himself that being... Gay, or at least bi is a part of his life he wants to get living, wants to experience all of it.

And he knows exactly who he wants to have that experience with.

* * *

He knocks on John's door. It's his last week of recovery, so he's moving around a lot better these days. John opens the door and Rodney smiles. "You feel like getting out of here for a while?"

"Oh, God, yes." John says heartily. He puts on boots and follows Rodney. "Um... Where are we going?"

Rodney grins, smug. "I may have asked permission for a puddle jumper this afternoon." John's eyes light up and Rodney gives himself a mental pat on the back. "I was thinking we could head over to the mainland, perhaps even do a little walking."

"Wow. I mean... Wow, Rodney, thanks. Hey, you feeling okay?" John asks with a teasing smile.

Rodney rounds the corner with John and glares. "Of course I am. I'm offering to walk, not do one of those ridiculous nine-hour hikes you and Ronon are always on about. Nothing strenuous."

One side of John's mouth slides up. "What, afraid a wounded man might beat you up the side of a mountain?"

"If it's you? Yes."

John chuckles. "At least you're honest."

Rodney dips his head and lets John take the lead as they head into the Jumper bay. "It's something I'm working on." He says quietly.

John gives him a curious look and Rodney points to Jumper four. "I was thinking you could drive since my skills are better suited for things like, oh, I don't know, saving the day, perhaps?"

"I can't argue with that today." John climbs in and sits in the driver's seat, all while smiling, and it's the fluttery-panic feeling all over again. This time Rodney accepts it, feels it instead of runs from it.

After fifteen minutes of flying and John so excited he looks like a puppy with his master back home from vacation they find a spot near the equator. It's all sandy beaches and low grass hills in the distance, with no one around for miles.

They walk for a bit. Rodney throws random pieces of grass at John, and John threatens to open the back hatch of the jumper on the way back and dump him in the ocean. They sit and watch the tide come in, and Rodney surprises John by pulling out a blanket and a little bit of food. Nothing impressive, just almost-turkey sandwiches and some bottled water, but John is impressed, and that's all that really matters.

"You know," John says, his head pillowed on his arm while looking up at the slowly darkening sky, "this whole afternoon has been really nice."

"Well, good. That's what I was aiming for." Rodney looks at John. He's sprawled comfortably and so at ease in his own body. Rodney wants that for himself, hopes that maybe he's finally getting there, too.

John sits up, wraps his arms loosely around his knees and looks over. "Why are you being so nice, Rodney?"

Rodney huffs. "I'm a nice person." John tilts his head and stares at him. "I am!" And Rodney belatedly realizes John is teasing him.

There's silence for a beat, then John snorts. "So, what's this trip really about?"

Rodney can only look back for so long. Eventually his eyes drop and he looks forlornly at the ocean. "Do you know the definition of insanity?"

John quirks a brow. "This conversation?"

Rodney wishes for a little of that grass he was throwing at John earlier. "Oh, Ha-ha. It's when you try the same thing over and over and expect a different result."

John looks thoughtful. "Einstein, right?"

Rodney rolls his eyes impatiently. "Yes, Einstein,"

"See? I knew you thought I was smart." John chuckles.

Rodney frowns. "That's not what I-"

John leans forward with a cute little pout. "I heard it, you can't take it back."

Flirting. John is flirting with him. Rodney feels his cheeks warm. Perhaps this won't go as bad as he feared.

His anxiety is still high, though. Honestly, he isn't ready for this conversation. But there's never a good time for this, is there? He closes his eyes, waits the space of a heartbeat and opens them again. It's just a blink, and even though the angle of the sun may have changed minutely and the spartan cloud cover has drifted ever so slightly with the wind, everything's the same. Perhaps after all this, and everything he knows now, he's still the same person, too. "I've realized a lot of things recently. About myself I mean, and I'm not really good with... explaining myself in any relative terminology when it comes to emotions. So I'm sorry in advance if some of this comes out all wrong."

John takes his wrist and squeezes it reassuringly. John has always preferred touching to talking about this stuff. "So just take it slow, then. What have you realized?"

Rodney slides John's hand over the bones of his wrist and up, turns his palm over so their fingers tangle together. "This. I think that... this... is something I want."

John stills and the slouch he uses like a shield bows his shoulders. His eyes have gone sharp and calculating. "Would this be in general or... ?"

Rodney's actually said it out loud. He tries to keep the small bubble of hysteria at bay. "No. And I think I've ignored it for a long time. Longer than I care to admit, really."

"Wait, so you-" John looks like he's at a loss for words and stares dumbly at their linked hands for a long time, a range of emotions too fast to read flit over his features. Rodney counts his heartbeats which come far too quickly. Waiting for John to say something is like having his foot poised over a precipice. He doesn't know if he'll float or fall.

Finally, John let's go of his hand, stands and turns away from him. Puts a hand over his forehead. Not fast enough to hide a deep frown and the sharp sting of fear in John's eyes. "Rodney, I..."

Rodney gets up too, his heart is thudding in his chest. "Yeah?"

John turns and doesn't meet his eyes, but he's schooled his features into an easygoing mask of politeness. He pats Rodney on the shoulder, like a friend. "I'm glad you told me. It took a lot of guts."

What the hell is that supposed to mean? The silence stretches, becomes awkward. "So, um, do you-"

"It's getting late, we should probably head back." John says quickly. His hand slides away and he goes to tidy up their picnic. His shoulders are tense and Rodney wants to know what the hell just happened to John.

John rarely meets his eyes as he takes the beach things to the Jumper, and when he does it's the tight smile Rodney hates. He gets a sinking, sad feeling in his chest. "Oh. Oh-okay. Sure."

The jumper ride home is quiet and, if possible, even more awkward than their conversation. Normally Rodney would be talking to fill the silence, but he doesn't want to talk quite yet. He has no idea what to say to make this better. He wants to go home and hide in his quarters for oh, maybe the rest of his life. That sounds like a nice, round number.

When they get home John flees the jumper bay, and Rodney feels a mixture of relief and sadness. He takes his time putting everything he brought with them away. What he brought from his quarters he gathers up, heads home and places everything carefully on the floor next to his shoes.

Rodney takes an incredibly long shower, promising himself he will tidy up tomorrow and finally allows himself the freedom to feel. Confusion hits him first, quickly followed by a sadness that has a depth that surprises him. He thought John's reaction would have been much different. All the flirting, the smiles and laughter - John doesn't do that kind of stuff with many people. He, Teyla and Ronon see it, and he sometimes does with Carson and Elizabeth, but he's more guarded with them, and no one else even gets close. He's a part of John's inner circle and he's very worried he's ruined that.

He wants more with John, but if there was no way that can happen he will gladly take their friendship instead. He respects and trusts John, and Rodney doesn't trust, not easily. And yeah, it will be painful at times to see him and know that Rodney can't touch him, but if that's the way it needs to go, if that's what John wants then he will respect that.

Doesn't mean he has to like it. He has no idea how long his shower is, but his fingers have gone all pruny, and even the really cool anti-fogging mirror is all fogged up. He decides that tomorrow he will talk to John, let him know that this doesn't have to affect their friendship and hopes that will work.

It's completely dark when he climbs into bed, and for a thirty-four year old, he feels way more tired than he should. Like he's weary to the bone and could sleep for years.

* * *

He wakes in the middle of the night to someone banging on his door. He's tempted to ignore it and follow through with his original plan of holing himself in his room until old age.

The knocking continues with no regard for Rodney's decision or the time, so he mutters bad things about broken Ancient equipment under his breath and thinks on the bedside light. "What broke this time?" He shouts as he stumbles to the door.

The moment he opens the door John stomps through it. Just the man he doesn't want to see right now. The door closes so fast Rodney thinks John must have told it to.

He's standing in the middle of Rodney's living room looking pissed. "You realize we're on the same gate team, right?"

Rodney gives John a dubious once over. "Of course I'm on your team. You woke me up to ask me that?"

"And you know I'm part of the Air Force, which has rules you don't agree with?"

Rodney shrugs on his house coat. It's too early for this. "All military organizations have rules I don't agree with, hence me _working with _them, not being a _part_ of them. Did you swallow massive amounts of sea water while I wasn't looking or something?"

John steps close to him, right inside Rodney's personal bubble. "Then why the hell did you spring that on me back there?"

"Is that what this is about?" Rodney asks as the last of the sleep finally falls away.

"Rodney, you are a subordinate on my gate team, that makes me responsible for you. I don't even know how many rules there are against anyone in our positions being able to have-something." John shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably. "I know you're a smart guy, you tell me so ten times a fucking day. So, if this is the way things are, and not likely to change, I will repeat: Why did you bring all that stuff up back there?"

Rodney's never responded well to people yelling at him. "Because it's how I feel!" Rodney yells right back. "I never thought about any of that other stuff because that's not what's paramount to this situation."

John's eyes glitter with anger. "But it's paramount to mine!"

"So all you were doing was flirting to pass the time?" Rodney asks waspishly.

"Flirting doesn't get me sent back to Earth and dishonorably discharged." John says, although he has the good grace to look mildly abashed. "It's a hell of a lot safer than what you're proposing."

Rodney sets his jaw, refusing to back down. "What are you so pissed off about? The fact I brought it up or is it that you feel you can't do anything about it?" John stops short and just looks at him. The anger is starting to fade, replaced by something Rodney hasn't the patience to translate. "Look," he says, striving for calm, "I'm sorry I brought it up, ok? It's clear that you don't-"

"Both."

"-feel the same way, so..." _Let's just pretend that whole conversation never happened _never comes out and Rodney's left stuttering for something to say. He hates it when someone whisks his words away, and John does it far too often.

"I'm answering your questions," John continues, like he knows the hopes and fears spinning through Rodney's head. "I'm pissed off at both. I'm also particularly annoyed that for once in your life you didn't think about the consequences of your actions. It doesn't matter if I feel the same or not. I don't have the luxury of choosing."

"The only person who told you that you can't have what you want is yourself." He says bitterly. "Trust me, I know." The expression on John's face comes far too close to sympathy. He doesn't want that from him, so Rodney steps so close he can feel the heat coming off John's skin, the brush of air on his neck as the man breathes. He wants to kiss him so badly. "Now, you either do something about it or get the hell out of my quarters so I can get what little sleep there is to be had tonight."

"It's not that simple." A hint of the fear Rodney saw on the beach bleeds into John's face.

Rodney's voice sounds quiet and reasonable. "But it is, John," He makes an abortive attempt to touch John. He sees it and his mouth tightens further. Rodney decides fuck it and takes his hand anyways.

John looks like he's warring with himself. He keeps looking at Rodney, then away and back again. His face is the blank mask he uses when dealing with hard decisions and Rodney really wishes John drops it so he can see what's going on inside that brain of his.

John's free hand traces the line of Rodney's brow, feather light, the touch as startling as the tenderness. John seems mildly surprised that he's touching him. The back of calloused fingers caress Rodney's cheekbone, and he's left with the impression of being memorized, burned into sense memory with other seemingly inconsequential hoarded things. Rodney wonders how long this has gone on for. Fingers brush along the line of his jaw sweetly.

John tips his jaw up and Rodney blinks owlishly. A look at John's finally unguarded face tells a story of terror, a kind of wonderous disbelief, and an ache that goes deeper than bone and straight through to his soul. Rodney's rendered frozen and disbelieving himself. He had no idea.

John's lips, when they finally touch his are soft and pliant. They fit over his in a heartbreakingly tender kiss. Rodney kisses him back just as gently.

It's like John suddenly comes to himself and snaps, grabs the lapels of Rodney's housecoat, pulls him in and _kisses _him. Rodney's never been kissed like this, as if every ounce of anger and lust and life is pushed into it, so intense and focused it takes his breath away. Rodney wraps his hands around John's neck, into his hair and kisses him right back.

John steps closer, pushes Rodney against the wall and his breath whooshes out. He dimly recalls how similar this is to his dream and hopes fervently he won't suddenly wake up alone in his room. He hears picture frames fall but he doesn't care. All he can think about is John and more and_ God, yes _and white noise.

"Damn, you drive me nuts, you know that?" John hisses.

"I've heard that from a few people now and then." Rodney sounds breathless and he can't stop smiling. He feels so good in Rodney's arms.

John's hand sliding around his waist is warm and doesn't tremble. It sneaks up under his t-shirt and strokes the small of his back. Little trills of heat shoot through his system every time John moves his hands. Rodney chokes back a moan and tugs John in until they're flush against one another, but carefully, making sure he doesn't hurt him.

Rodney wants to catalogue every touch and taste, every tactile moment. He gasps when John slides his house coat off his shoulders. Cool air licks at his exposed skin and raises goosebumps. Rodney realizes that all he's wearing is a t-shirt and boxers now. He feels exposed and vulnerable under John's heated gaze. John has seen him in various states of undress, just as he has seen John, Ronon and Teyla, but this feels different - this is different - and John is so warm, the wide expanse of his chest is pressed right against Rodney's, it chases away the goose-flesh, so perfectly, thoroughly male.

The slightly coarse fabric of John's shirt is mesmerizing to his fingertips. Rodney wants to run his hands all over it, over John. He trails fingertips down over a collarbone, the pebbled nub of a clothed nipple, his hard, flat belly and lower, finds the edge of the shirt and lifts it up. Rodney is giddy and terrified in turns when John pulls the shirt the rest of the way off. He's Rodney's oasis after a lifetime of searching in a desert.

John stops kissing him and stares at Rodney's mouth, and Rodney knows he should be annoyed at the break, but he can't quite find the energy. He's using up what little he has left to catch his breath and keep his knees from buckling. John looks wild around his very blown out almost all pupil eyes. Rodney thinks he's never looked better, possibly looks good enough to eat, or lick or taste.

A profound tenderness creeps into John's face. When they kiss again it's languorous, slow and deep. John is learning Rodney's mouth and taste. A thumb tracks gently over Rodney's cheekbone again, it feels more intimate than the kiss, and now there's this hollow aching spot just under his breastbone and Rodney doesn't know what to do with that.

He had always suspected John was a good kisser, but this is so much more than his imaginations musings. John groans low into Rodney's neck. "I want to do everything to you." John whispers. Rodney shivers at the want in John's voice, then nods.

Because he wants that too. He craves John's mouth whispering secrets into his skin, his big hands learning his body and everything that makes him moan, pant and cry out for more. The idea that John can touch him any way he wants makes Rodney's balls ache, his ass clench and his dick leak.

"I want to do this properly, though." John murmurs into his neck. He pulls back and looks at Rodney, and Jesus, he looks like sex personified. "Take me to bed, Rodney?" Rodney's mouth goes dry and his breath stalls. Intellectually, he knows they're going in this direction, but hearing it makes it real in a way that freezes Rodney in place again. Sudden panic grips him. What if he does something John doesn't like? What if he doesn't like it enough that this is all Rodney gets? He can't go back to how things were after this.

John's watching his every move, his thumb on Rodney's neck is moving in gentle circles over his wildly beating pulse point. He looks wary, and a little worried. John must have picked up on Rodney's hesitance and thought - oh, damn, Rodney hasn't even done anything and still he's messing things up.

"Yeah," Rodney croaks out, "I want- yes." He's rewarded with a smile that's almost too sweet. He stumbles to the bed, tugging John with him. John lays down gingerly, and Rodney reminds himself again that he must be careful with him. He doesn't want to hurt John. He lies down next to him, pulls John onto his side facing him and kisses him again, long, slow and so very, very hot.

John's hair at the nape of his neck is silky and soft, and the skin on the back of his shoulders is smooth and warm. John's chest is hard against Rodney's, he can feel their heartbeats chasing after each other, pounding away the rhythm of want. Johns hands roam over his chest under the loose shirt, inches it up. Rodney lifts his arms so the shirt goes up and over, then it's so much better. John kisses Rodney's neck, collarbone, chest and Rodney sucks in deep shuddering breaths as he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

"Oh shit. _John_-" John lifts his head just enough to make eye contact and that look goes straight to Rodney's dick. His hips buck up, looking for friction to calm the ache between his legs. Has he ever been this hard? He doesn't know, can't think when John groans again like that. Rodney can feel the vibration through his chest cavity and _oh shit_, yeah,he wants John to do that again.

John kisses to his other nipple, sucks it down, gets the barest hint of teeth involved and Rodney whimpers and arches into his mouth. John is on top of him now, Rodney's legs spread and bracketing him, his belly is putting pressure on Rodney's cock and he's so warm, so incredibly, impossibly warm. Rodney thrusts up and John pushes down, slides a hand from chest to side to hip to thigh and back again.

Rodney's world is dwindling down to this: John above him and around him, holding him down and damn it, that shouldn't be as hot as it is. Rodney's never been pushed into the mattress like this, didn't think he'd ever want it, but he does now. Realization this time comes with a whimper and he winds his fingers deeper into John's messy (perfect, silky, made for him) hair and begs silently for more.

"Rodney, I want-" John swallows audibly and his big possessive hands take hold of his knees, slide to his inner thighs and down, down, _down_, inching closer and closer. Rodney's legs open wantonly wide. His skin everywhere John touches feels electrified.

"God, anything, just-do something." Rodney babbles.

John looks up with a hint of a smile, but it slides away leaving him intensely serious, like he's hanging by a thread. "Say that again."

Rodney pauses. A faint tremor runs through John and he wonders again how much he's wanted this, and for how long. He could ask him and most likely get an answer, too, but Rodney doesn't want that. What he needs, is John. He leans forward and kisses him deeply. "Anything you want," He whispers.

John moans and kisses the hollow of his chest. "Wanna see you. Taste you..." he mumbles, his breath hot on Rodney's skin. John kisses his belly, then his belly button and _omygodhe'sreallygonna_- John reaches for the elastic of Rodney's boxers and slides them off.

Rodney has only a moment to contemplate cool air on sensitive places before John presses a kiss to the dip between hip and pelvis, pushes his nose to the side of Rodney's intensely hard cock and breathes him in. He shivers at the rush of air. John's hands keep stroking his inner thighs, from knee all the way to the join of leg and hip, over and over. it makes Rodney shiver and tremble. He can't stop touching John either, his hands run over shoulders, neck and upper arms - anything he can reach at this angle.

John lifts his head again, looks at him with those blown out eyes, and licks the tip of Rodney's cock. It's like an electric shock and it takes a huge effort of self-restraint not to push up into his mouth. "Oh, fuck," Rodney whines.

"Wanted this..." John whispers, then holds the base of Rodney's cock so he can kiss the glans with the barest hint of tongue. It makes Rodney's toes curl. "...Wanted you. God, look at you."

"John," Rodney whimpers. His verbose vocabulary, it's all dwindled down to that. Rodney couldn't string a sentence together if his life depended on it. All he can do is look on helplessly as John licks him from root to tip and swallows the head of his cock.

Heat and wet and suction and pressure and hands and mouth and- _Oh god_, Rodney's back arches, his legs tremble, he makes a cracking moan and clenches the bed sheets in a trembling fist. John bobs slowly, sucking, then pulling off to lick, tease, look at him, look at his cock, then do it all over again.

And again, and again. It's like being eaten alive piece by slow piece. Rodney doesn't know how long he can last. He can feel his orgasm churning in his balls, all he can think is 'just a few more seconds. If I can only hold off a few more seconds.'

The sight of John sucking his cock is the hottest thing he's ever seen, he wants to stay here forever watching John watch him. But John has other ideas, it seems. He speeds up, starts stroking Rodney's shaft. He lifts off his cock enough to lick a finger, and Rodney can feel the wet slide over his balls, press into that sensitive spot just behind them and then- "Oh God, John, I don't- I mean, I've never-"

Because he hasn't, he's never had a partner that's been interested in that, and he's never had the guts to do it himself, too afraid he'd like it too much. He's flirted with that edge many times, but never actually gone over it.

John moans again, a dark sound that Rodney can feel through his cock, in his balls and deeper. John teases at his hole, tiny little circles that makes every nerve in his body sing, then slides his finger inside him. It's nothing like Rodney's felt before, he's pierced to the soul. _Another man is inside me, Oh fuck_-.

He loses it. His asshole contracts, his balls clench so tight it almost hurts and without warning Rodney's coming, shooting deep in Johns mouth. John takes it all, swallows him down and Rodney's shaking. John lifts off his quickly softening cock with an obscene wet pop, kisses the dip at his pelvis again and lies beside Rodney, takes him in his arms and holds him until the shaking subsides.

"You didn't...?" Rodney asks.

John shakes his head and holds him tighter. "It's ok."

No, it isn't, Rodney thinks. If this is about the two of them, if John was able to give him that much pleasure-

He fumbles for the clasp of John's jeans, undoes them and finds his boxer-clad cock. "Rodney, I mean it, you don't have to-"

"Shut up." Rodney growls. He pushes restricting fabric away. John is so hard, the tip of his cock wet. When Rodney puts a hand on it John's arms tighten around him. Rodney jacks him off hard and fast. The angle isn't the greatest, Rodney wants to see what he's doing, see the shape and heft of it in his hand, but he doesn't want to move out from John's embrace. His forehead is pressed to Rodney's, dotted with sweat, breathing hard. Rodney kisses him, warm and wet and alive. He tastes like himself, and Rodney kisses him deeper, wants to sear that taste - John mingled with him - into his memory forever. John freezes and he comes over Rodney's belly, the bed, his hand.

John slides a hand over Rodney's shoulder, up to his neck, cups the back of his head and presses their foreheads together again. Massages his scalp a little and Rodney wants to purr like a contented house cat.

"Can you stay?" Rodney whispers.

John smiles, it's sated and sweet. "I'll stay for a while."

Rodney smiles back. They tidy up and when Rodney falls asleep this time, it's cradled in Johns arms, warm, safe and more complete than he's ever felt before.

* * *

When Rodney wakes the grey light streaming through the windows tells him it's very early morning. He rolls over. The other side of the bed is empty. He touches the pillow, still warm. Rodney smiles, knocks his pillow to the side and pulls the one John slept on over and breathes it in.

John comes out of the bathroom wearing a towel and smelling of shower and toothpaste. He looks at the state of the bed, the state of Rodney and smirks. "Pillow hog."

Rodney shrugs and snuggles deeper into the pillow. "It's good you know that now. Best to get these things out in the open early on."

John's smile fades, but doesn't leave completely. "Good idea." He sits on the edge of the bed and puts his socks on, then leans over and kisses Rodney's neck. He arches, gives John more room to play. "I really should go." He says regretfully.

Rodney sighs. He knew this part was coming. He was just hoping it wouldn't come so quickly. "Yeah."

"But... I was thinking," John says as he looks very intently at the bed sheet covering Rodney's chest. "Maybe you could come over tonight. You know, after you're finished work."

Rodney can't stop smiling. "That would be nice." He says softly.

John looks back and smiles at him, the same toothy grin Rodney's sure he's wearing. John kisses him properly. It lingers on Rodney's lips.

The light is brighter when they break apart. Rodney slides a finger down the side of John's face, gets to know the texture of John's skin and the way he smells fresh out of a shower. He thinks about having this every day, of waking up to him and his morning routine. "I don't want easy." He blurts.

John's eyebrows shoot up and his eyes are dancing. "Rodney, nothing about you is easy."

"Ha-ha, very funny." Rodney mock-laughs. "I mean... You said once that you keep your relationships casual. I don't want that. I want more."

John isn't smiling anymore. He backs away a little and drops his eyes. "Look... I don't know if this is a good idea."

It get's Rodney's blood up. "It's not that complicated. Do you want me or not?"

"Wanting and having are two different things, Rodney, you know that." John reaches for his pants and won't look at Rodney.

The thing is, Rodney knows that all too well. "Yes. I do." He says softly, then, louder, "and I personally like the idea of getting what I want.". John stops fiddling with his pants.

"You're not going to let me get out of this are you?" John asks, looking suddenly tired. He slides to the side, wraps an arm around Rodney and looks at him. "Rodney, listen to me: We're on the same gate team, which means we have other people to think about. There's also my job, and by extension yours, too."

"All on the assumption I can't keep us a secret." Rodney feels stung.

John's face goes blank, then very, very pink, which is more of a confession than if John had said it. Rodney doesn't want to push John into something more if he doesn't want it. That's not what friends do, and they are still that, will always be that.

"Why don't we try having just this for a while," Rodney takes John's hand and twines their fingers together. "If it doesn't work we can always come back and re-evaluate."

John looks doubtful. "I don't know..."

Which sounds like an open invitation for Rodney to prove all the wonderful ways this could work for them. He pulls John on top of him with their linked hands and kisses him. John kisses back and a little thrill goes through Rodney.

John groans in defeat as Rodney puts a possessive hand on his hip and pulls him closer so John can feel his rising interest. "A month," John murmurs against Rodney's skin, and oh yeah, his voice sounds good like that. "We'll see how things go for a month." John looks at him from under dark lashes. "Don't make me regret this, McKay."

Rodney smiles. "This is one decision you'll never regret." Rodney promises and kisses him slowly, taking the time he hadn't the night before, learning all the places that makes John shiver and moan, then pulls him closer.

Rodney is inching the towel from around John's hips when the beeping starts. John stops kissing him and groans sadly. "Is that my earpiece or yours?"

The question becomes moot when another beeping joins the first. Rodney reaches for his on the bedside table and puts it impatiently to his ear. "This better be fantastically good, as in finding me a crate full of ZedPM's."

"Good morning to you, too, Rodney," Zelenka replies, tinny and sharp through the little speaker. John kisses his shoulder and rolls away to pat down his pants for his own earpiece. Rodney momentarily regrets not turning the damn thing off last night like he usually does. "I know it's early-"

"Incredibly early. What do you want?"

"I was searching through the database early this morning and I found some information on early Ancient ZPM research-"

Rodney's lazy approval of John bending over while still in his towel dissolves. "Don't touch anything, in fact, don't even _breathe _on that information until I get there." He's already off the bed and searching for clothes as John finishes his own conversation with a muttered curse.

"I have a meeting with Lorne fifteen minutes ago." John looks both regretful and impatient. Rodney understands completely. He watches wistfully as John shimmies into his pants. Oh, what he wouldn't give to sleep in like a normal person some days.

"And I have a meeting with Zelenka." he says. The irritation at being interrupted is starting to fade into guarded hope. If Zelenka really did find some useful information on ZedPM research...

He and John get dressed, and at the door John pulls him into a kiss that warms him to his toes. "Have a good day, dear." John murmurs with one of his goofy smiles.

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, you too. Now, get out of my quarters."

Rodney is trying to push him out the door but John holds him back for a moment. "Radio me tonight?"

He looks hopeful, and so very cute when he asks like that. Rodney can't help but smile back. "Of course." He's said that so many times to placate or to stall, but Rodney means it this time.

John nods, satisfied. "Good."

The door swishes open and they go opposite ways.

He has to concentrate to keep the smile from his face. Before he turns the corner and out of John's sight he gets one more glimpse of him. John looks over his shoulder and gives him that unreadable smile - only it's not so unreadable any longer. It is sweet (he can't help but smile back), a touch of the tenderness he showed Rodney the night before (he isn't sure what to do with that yet) and wicked (a promise for later).

Rodney smiles back and turns the corner, out of sight and to his own transporter. Although the ZedPM possibilities are filling most of his attention, he finds himself looking forward to tonight. It feels like a first date, or a first kiss, but so much better, because it's for John. In a way he's glad he's waited until now to go down this path, because he's found someone who likes him for who he is - insecurities, hypochondria, crappy intra-personal skills and all.

In fact, he can't wait until tonight, and what's better, neither can John.

~Fin~


End file.
